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seduction.”
    “He is fabulously wealthy and rumors say his castle is luxurious beyond compare.”
    Adrienne blinked. “Wonderful. A materialistic, unfaithful, beautiful playboy of a self-indulged, inconsiderate man with a bad memory. And he’s all mine. Dear sweet God, what have I done to deserve this?” she wondered aloud.
Twice
, she brooded privately.
    Lisbelle looked at her curiously. “But the rumors tell he is a magnificent lover and most comely to look upon, milady. What could be wrong with that?”
    Methinks you don’t understand this world, Janet Comyn.
Perhaps he was right. “Does he beat his women?”
    “He doesn’t keep them long enough, or so they say.”
    “Although, I hear tell one of his women tried to kill him recently. I can’t imagine why,” the maid added, genuinely puzzled. “ ’Tis said he is more than generous with his mistresses when he’s done with them.”
    “I can imagine why,” Adrienne grumbled irritably, suddenly impatient with all the plucking, fastening, adorning, and arranging hands on her body. “Stop, stop.” She lightly slapped Lisbelle’s hands from her hair, which had been washed, combed mercilessly, and teased torturously for what felt like years.
    “But milady, we must do something with this hair. ’Tis so straight! You must look your best—”
    “Personally, I’d prefer to look like something the cat dragged in. Wet, bedraggled, and smelling like a ripe dungheap.”
    Gasps resounded. “Lass, he will be your husband, and you could do far worse,” a stern voice cut across the room. Adrienne turned slowly and met the worldly-wise gaze of a woman with whom she felt an instant kinship. “You could have mine, for lack of a better example.”
    Adrienne sucked in a harsh breath. “The Laird Comyn?”
    “
Your father
, my darling daughter,” Lady Althea Comyn said with an acid smile. “Begone—all of you.” She ushered the maids from the room with a regal hand, her eyes lingering overlong on Bess. “He’ll kill the lass one day, he will,” she said softly. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly for a long moment.
    “He explained what you must do?”
    Adrienne nodded.
    “And you will do it?”
    Again she nodded. The Lady Comyn expelled a sigh of relief.
    “If there is aught a time I may repay the kindness—”
    “It’s not a kindness. It’s to save my life.”
    “—you need only ask. For it saves mine own.”

    Adrienne stood tall before the man of the cloth, fulfilling her part of the farce. “I am Janet Comyn,” she proclaimed loudly. God’s man paled visibly and clutched his Bible until his knuckles looked to split at the seams.
So he knows I’m not
, she mused.
What on earth is really going on here?
    She felt a presence near her left shoulder, and turned reluctantly to face the man she was to wed. Her eyes met thearea slightly below his breastbone and every inch of it was encased in steel.
    Adrienne started to rise and look her fiancé in the face, when she realized with horror that she wasn’t kneeling. Beyond chagrined, she tipped her head back and swallowed a thousand frantic protests that clotted in her throat.
    The giant stared back with an inscrutable expression, flames from flickering candles dancing in the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
    I can’t marry him
, she screamed silently.
I can’t do it!
    Her eyes fled his countenance and chafed lightly across the audience in search of someone to save her from this debacle. Bess sat in the rear pew, eyes closed in supplication.
    Adrienne flinched and closed her eyes in kind.
Please God, if I’ve gone mad, please make me sane again. And if I haven’t gone mad and somehow this is really happening—I’m sorry I wasn’t grateful for the twentieth century. I’m sorry I did what I did to Eberhard. I’m sorry for everything, and I promise I’ll be a better person if you just GET ME OUT OF HERE!
    When she opened her eyes again she could have sworn the man of the cloth had a knowing and