Pondering that thought while Boreas and his kitten resettled themselves beside the bed, she realized that Ailvie ought to be there. But the washstand ewer was empty, so perhaps it was not as late as she had thought.
Moving to look out the window, she tried to decide if she would like being married. The thought of leaving home still chilled her to the bone. And Fin had not ever responded when she’d told him that she had not changed her mind about that.
Perhaps he understood her feelings and would live at Rothiemurchus. If so, when he had to follow Rothesay into battle or elsewhere, she could stay with her family instead of with enemy strangers whom he must barely know himself by now.
She was still pondering so when the latch clicked and the door opened.
Assuming that it must be Ailvie, she said without turning, “I wondered if I should have to send for you. Is it not growing late?”
The door shut, and the last voice she expected to hear then said, “Ailvie is not here because I sent my woman to tell her not to come until I send for her.”
“Grandame!” Catriona exclaimed, turning. “What are you—? That is…”
“I have heard of some strange ways to announce a wedding, Catriona,” Lady Annis said tartly. “But the usual custom is not for the bride to declare her intention so publicly, nor so directly to the heir to Scotland’s throne. Do you not think that you might at least have told someone before now that young Sir Finlagh attracted you? He does do so, I trust, since you must marry him tonight.”
“Tonight! But he said—”
“Never mind what he may have said. Rothesay wants to see a wedding at once. And your grandfather means to provide him with one, because he decided some time ago that this Fin of the Battles is an excellent choice for you.”
“D-did he?” Catriona could scarcely breathe, let alone respond sensibly.
“Aye, he did. Sithee, he knew from the moment he clapped eyes on him that the lad was a Cameron. And not just any Cameron, mind you, but the son of the great archer, Teàrlach MacGillony, which makes him perfectly suitable to marry you.”
“It does?”
“Aye, sure, because coming from that branch of the family, he is just the sort of match, your grandfather says, to help him keep this truce in place betwixt the Camerons and Clan Chattan. That is of the utmost importance, he says.”
“But, Grandame, I—”
“This decision is not about you, Catriona, so you can put that notion right out of your head. And if you mean to cause trouble by losing your temper or enacting some other drama, I strongly advise you to think again. Your father is not in a mood to be either amused or indulgent. In troth, you should be grateful that I persuaded him and your grandfather that I should be the one to relay their decision to you.”
“Prithee, if you will just—”
“Hush,” Lady Annis commanded, determined as usual to have the last word. “Rothesay means to have his way. So you will be sleeping tonight with the man.”
Catriona’s imagination promptly produced an image of Rothesay in her bed, but there was naught in that image to amuse her, and she knew that it was not what Lady Annis had meant. But she did not want to think about Fin in her bed either.
That image was much too disturbing, and if she was to retain any respect for herself, she could think about only one thing now.
As she strode to the door, Lady Annis exclaimed, “Where are you going?”
“To end this,” Catriona declared. She could not recall ever defying her grandmother before. But she could not let them force Fin to marry her even if she was as angry with him now as she was with herself and everyone else.
After Rothesay’s declaration that the wedding should proceed at once, Fin had tried to catch Shaw’s eye, hoping to indicate that they needed to talk. But the conversation had immediately become general, with the women and Alex Stewart exclaiming and asking questions about how the wedding should proceed.
Lady Annis had exchanged a look with the Mackintosh and then left the chamber, declaring that she would inform Catriona of their decision.
“There can be no difficulty about a priest,” Rothesay said in answer now to a question from Lady Ealga. “There are many ways around that, but we’ll just roust out the real mendicant friar amongst Donald’s lads and let