Winterfalls. Cara had visited the place a few times, as it was on the way to the Dalriadan court. Prince Oran had seemed a reserved sort of man, scholarly and quiet. A little stuffy for a man his age. When Cara had last been there, he had not yet been married. His wife would be a younger version of Aunt Della, all too ready to tell people when they were not meeting her expectations. It would be unbearable. It would be a lonely exile. She wanted to ask how long a while was. She wanted to tell him she could practise her court manners perfectly well at home, since Aunt Della knew all about that sort of thing. She wanted to remind him that she’d done nothing to disgrace him, the time he and she had gone to Cahercorcan for a few days. Perhaps folk had thought her silence impolite; perhaps they had found it odd that she’d spent so much time up on the high walkways looking out to sea, or sitting in the garden on her own. But she had been perfectly well behaved. The worst she had done was occasionally forget to conceal a yawn of boredom. She could say none of this. It was too many words; it was too hard. If she tried she would cry, and Father hated it when she cried.

A new thought came to her. That wild man, out by the guardian oak – did this sudden decision have something to do with him? ‘The . . .’ she whispered. ‘The . . . man . . . b-before . . .’

‘This is nothing to do with any man.’ His response was swift; so swift that she thought it might not be true. But he was her father. A father did not lie to his only daughter. ‘Your aunt and I have been discussing this matter for some time,’ he added. ‘It’s for your safety. For your future. For the future of Wolf Glen. If you’re to marry, you must at the very least learn to stammer out more than a word or two at a time. The sooner you learn to sustain a conversation and to conduct yourself in an appropriate manner, the sooner you can come back to Wolf Glen. That seems to me entirely reasonable.’

She pushed down the roiling mass of feelings that threatened to undo her. If she wept or screamed or ran from the room, he would say she had just proved how badly she needed training in ladylike behaviour. ‘H-how . . . how long? And when?’

‘Until you have learned what you must learn. I will miss you; I have no desire to lose you for any longer than necessary. But necessary it is. As for when, I will ride to Winterfalls with you tomorrow and see you settled.’

Tomorrow. This was a bad dream. Why would he do this to her? Didn’t he know it was like wrenching out her heart?