Page 12 of Moon Craving
"You need spend little time with him. He is after all, a barbaric Scot."
According to Emily's rare letters, Talorc of the Sinclairs was both barbarian and
proud. What would such a proud laird do when he learned of the deceit? Would he kill
her? Declare war on her father? Sending her to a nunnery or back to her family was the
best possible scenario, but not one she could rely on.
And the sad truth was, Abigail's mother obviously didn't care what the outcome
would be, so long as she was rid of her cursed daughter.
"He will be my husband regardless. What if he seeks out my company?" she
asked, with little hope of reasoning with Sybil.
Her mother's expression revealed what she thought of that possibility. "He hates
the English. He is acceding to the marriage because of the dowry his king has offered
him."
The king's missive had said as much, outlining a very generous dowry that
sounded more like a bribe from monarch to laird to ensure the Highlander's cooperation.
"What of my dowry?"
"You think I would provide such when your sister ended up married to the wrong
laird? I insisted that the dowry provided with Emily be returned to the Sinclair laird or for
him to do without."
Cold certainty settled in Abigail's heart. "You want to rid yourself of me and had no
intention of paying a nunnery a proper dowry to do so." That was supposing a nunnery
would take her, even with the right monetary incentive. "So, you have orchestrated this
bargain made in hell."
Sybil slapped Abigail, knocking her backward. "Do not dare speak to me thus."
"Why not? It is the truth." Abigail put her hand over her throbbing cheek, screaming
in her head, but unable to express the pain through her voice.
"The truth is, you will no longer be my problem."
Abigail staggered under the verbal blow so much more painful than the slap. "What
if I tell him before he is bound to me? What will you do then?"
She could stop the madness before it began.
Those words were the last Abigail was able to utter as Sybil lifted the stick that
