She was still in shock that she was here at all. She’d never once thought it was even remotely possible that she would be forced into a marriage against her will, but that was precisely what had happened to her. She’d begged her father, pleaded with him, but he’d been doggedly determined. He’d been adamant that this marriage was her duty to her family and to England, and that the union between her and Mackenzie would safeguard the Armstrong fortune for generations to come. “You’re the only daughter I have, Margot,” he’d said. “You have a duty to do as I deem best, and you will obey me in this.”

Margot had fought back, but her father had threatened her. He swore he would never provide a dowry for any other suitor. He wouldn’t allow her to see Lynetta, knowing full well that the two girls would conspire. She would have no society; she would be locked away at Norwood Park and turned into a spinster with no hope of happiness.

At only seventeen years old, Margot hadn’t known what to do or how to escape her father’s tyranny. In the end, her father had bartered against her confusion and uncertainty and fear and had worn her down.

A fortnight before her eighteenth birthday, Mackenzie was granted a barony. That night, he arrived at Norwood Park to dine with Margot and her family. She scarcely looked at him. At least he wore proper clothes and had shaved his dreadful beard. But when he attempted to make conversation, she responded as blandly as she could in a desperate hope he would find her tedious and vapid and would want to cry off.

Apparently he was quite at ease with the picture she presented. Two days after her eighteenth birthday, Margot took her marriage vows in the Norwood Park chapel before her father and two brothers. Mackenzie had a giant of a man stand up with him.

On her wedding night, her new husband had bedded her quickly, as if the task displeased him, and then had disappeared. Two days later, they departed for Scotland. On the first day of the journey, Margot cried until she made herself ill. When there were no more tears to cry, she felt numb. Her husband asked her more than once if there was anything he could do to help ease her, and she shook her head and looked away from him.

By the time they reached the Highlands of Scotland, having traveled for days without seeing any sort of civilization, Margot was afraid.

Now the chaise rolled through the village where people lined the roads, trying to get a glimpse of her before the chaise disappeared behind the thick walls that surrounded the enormous castle.