Excerpt of Highland Groom by Hannah Howell

Scotland, Spring 1471

Ilsa groaned as eight of her fourteen brothers crowded into her small cottage. They looked around, each wearing an identical scowl of disapproval. None of them liked or tolerated her decision to move out of the keep. Unfortunately, not one of them understood that their often overbearing protectiveness had been smothering her, either. Even though one or more of them stopped by several times a day, she was enjoying her newfound freedom. That, she feared, was about to end.

"It has been nearly a year," announced Sigimor, her eldest brother, as he and his twin Somerled crouched by the cradles of their nephews. "In a fortnight the year and the day come to an end."

"I ken it."

Ilsa put two heavy jugs of ale on the huge table that occupied almost half of her main room. She had realized that she would never be able to stop her brothers from coming round as the mood struck them so had arranged her living area accordingly. The huge table, sturdy benches, and extra seats, hung upon the wall until needed, had all been made specifically for her brothers. She had arranged a small sitting area more to her liking on the other end of the great hall which made up most of her bottom floor. A low, somewhat rough addition to the back of her home held the kitchen, a tiny pantry, a bathing room, and a small bedchamber for her companion. The high loft which served as the upper part of her home was where she had done things to please herself alone. She had the sinking feeling her brothers were going to force her to leave her little cottage just as she had gotten herself comfortably settled.

"The lads need their father," Sigimor said as he let his nephew Finlay clasp his finger.

"Fourteen uncles arenae enough?" she drawled, setting eight tankards on the table.

"Nay. Their father is a laird, has land and coin. They deserve a part of that."

"It would appear that their father isnae of a like mind." It hurt to say those words, but Ilsa fought to hide her pain. "Ye want me to go crawling to a mon who has deserted me?"

Sigimor sighed and moved to join his brothers at the table as Ilsa set out bread, cheese, and oat- cakes. "Nay, I want ye to confront him, to demand what is rightfully due your sons, his sons."

Ilsa also sighed as she sat down next to her twin brother Tait. She had hoped her brothers would not use her sons's rights or welfare to sway her, but suspected she had been foolish to do so. They might be rough, loud, overbearing, and far too protective, but they were not stupid. Her weak point was her sons and only an idiot would not realize it.

"Mayhap another week," she began and groaned when her brothers all shook their heads.

“That would be cutting it too close to the bone. We will leave on the morrow."

"But..."

"Nay. I will admit that I am fair disappointed in the lad..."

"He is of an age with ye," muttered Ilsa.

Sigimor ignored her and continued, "For I believed all his talk of needing to clear away some threat and prepare his keep for a wife. Tis why I settled for a handfast marriage. I felt a wee bit uncomfortable insisting upon witnessed documents, but now I am glad that I did. He cannae deny ye or the lads. We can make him honor the vows he made." He studied Ilsa closely for a moment, ”I thought ye cared for the mon. Ye wanted him bad enough."

"And I thought he cared for me," she snapped. “That was obviously utter foolishness. For just a moment I forgot that I am too poor, too thin, and too red. The mon was just willing to play a more devious game than usual to tumble a maid."

'That makes no sense, Ilsa," argued Tait. "He let us ken where he lives."

"Are ye sure of that?" She nodded when her brothers looked briefly stunned. 'We just have his word on that and I think we can assume that his word isnae worth verra much."