“I’m Grant.” The man introduced himself with a bow. “Tavish Grant.”

“Elyne. Laird Campbell’s sister,” said Elyne with a curtsy.

“So ye be the bride!”

“Y-yes.” Elyne took another close look at Grant. Here he was, the man she would marry. Her heart thumped so noisily on her rib cage, she put a hand to her chest to try to calm it. She would marry this man. It was her duty, and she would happily oblige her family. For once, being the good daughter was actually working in her benefit.

“And we had hoped to make a good impression on ye. Too late now!” Grant gestured toward the hanging laundry and general mess of the room.

“I am sorry to disturb ye.”

“Dinna worrit yerself. Ye might as well see what ye’re in for.” Grant stepped toward her and leaned closer with a conspiratorial grin. “We are not always the cleanest lot.”

“I am sure we can set that to rights,” said Elyne with a smile of her own.

“Verra good! I’m glad to find ye a brave lass. Where are my manners? Come sit down.” Grant scanned the room for a chair, but finding none readily apparent, he motioned to the stone window seat, moving large trunks out of her way with ease.

Elyne sat across from Grant in the stone seat carved into the thick tower wall. What should she say to her intended husband? Despite his slightly ragged appearance, he was an impossibly attractive man, with a bright smile and lively eyes.

“Did ye travel long to get here?” asked Elyne to be polite and also to gauge how far from her family her new home would be.

“Aye. Been on the road a month at least.”

“I see,” said Elyne, trying not to be disheartened. Nothing was more important to her than family. The family she helped keep together after both parents died—the family she would soon have to leave.

“The roads are no’ too bad,” said Grant, as if reading her thoughts. “Should be easier to travel in the summer when the rivers aren’t quite as greedy.”

“I’m sorry yer wagon overturned in the river.”

Grant grinned. “Ne’er been more amused. My cousin, Grigor, was driving it and, oh, how he hates to get wet. He hollered something fierce when he hit the water. I fished him out before too long, but he had naught to say but what I canna repeat to ye. He doesna take to travel well.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Kind to offer, but nay. We will see to it.”

“What is it like, yer home?”

“Nice, at least I think so. But ye are always partial to yer own home. Yet I like to travel. 'Tis why I came here. I canna see myself staying too long in any one place, with so many new places to explore.”

“Truly?” If he enjoyed travel, perhaps he would take her to visit her family. “I have no’ traveled much, but I would like to try.”

“Would ye? Most womenfolk I know dinna like to leave their comforts.”

“If ye had a wife, would ye take her wi’ ye on yer travels?” Elyne smoothed her skirts and asked the question she needed to know.

“I should hope so. Would’na see much o’ the lass if I dinna take her wi’ me.”

Relief flooded through Elyne. Her intended was handsome, charming, and would allow her to visit her family. Everything was right in her world.

Loud male voices echoed up the stone staircase through the open door. “Here are the cousins returning,” said Grant. “I am sure they will wish to make yer acquaintance.”

Five men entered the room, all solid in stature. They were dressed in the great kilt of the Highlander, a fashion familiar to Elyne, who had been raised in the Highlands.

“Cousins!” greeted Grant. “Let me introduce ye to the lovely Elyne Grant.” Grant motioned to one of the men and a large man with thick black whiskers stepped closer. “Milady, may I present to ye Grigor Grant, yer intended groom.”

Elyne stifled a gasp. Her gaze slid from Grigor to Tavish and back again. Grigor Grant was a large man with broad shoulders and a bushy, black beard to match his bushy, black eyebrows. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken at some point.

Elyne was accustomed to living with large Highland men, but even so, Grigor was an intimidating figure. He stood before her, mute and glowering. She took a deep breath and pasted on a smile. She was not marrying Grigor for his looks nor his bonnie disposition nor, apparently, for his command of basic social skills, she was marrying him because… because… well, she’d tease that out later. The most important thing to remember was that his appearance and disposition did not matter to her.

And yet Elyne felt as if something heavy was pressing onto her shoulders and she was shrinking beneath its weight. Tavish smiled at her. Tavish was pleasant and kind and attractive.

Tavish may be everything she wanted, but she would marry Grigor Grant.