Sebastien is as principled as they come. An illegitimate son of a nobleman, he is a self-made soldier who owes his rise in the ranks to his skill and his sense of personal honor. He may have to provide bloodstained sheets to keep his oath to Robert the Bruce, but he goes out of his way to make sure his forced union with Lara is as unlike rape as possible given the circumstances. He realizes very quickly that he would like nothing more than to found a real home and family with his unwilling bride. And although he hopes to capture Lara's love, he also understands her dilemma all too clearly: to give herself to him would be to forsake herself and all she stands for.

But, aside from introducing her to sexual pleasures and telling her what a good thing they could have as man and wife, his actions and work are not aimed at convincing her why loyalty to him and the Bruce is the way to go. Luckily for him, Lara's father and cousin are such heartless villains, or my sympathies would have been as divided as hers.

Initially, Lara maintains her allegiance to her family and clan and agrees to use her position in the castle to spy. But, as she spends more time with her husband, her loyalties are increasingly torn. Her conflicting emotions eventually turn into guilt, when she realizes how her earlier betrayal endangers Sebastien and threatens his position in Robert the Bruce's camp.

I fully sympathize with Lara's conflict, and I admire her sense of honor. Which is perhaps I am so disappointed when she does such stupid things as jumping into the sea to save her younger brother. A noble gesture, to be sure - if only she knew how to swim. Now, instead of one, there are two people to rescue. Perhaps this episode is a forewarning of her subsequent misguided actions? Because, although she has doubts about her cousin's good intentions, she nevertheless delivers one of Sebastien's treasured possessions to him. And later, when she realizes the long-run implications of her double-dealing, she decides to resolve the problems herself instead of turning to her husband. Independent, spirited and steadfastly loyal? Looks more like naiveté, perhaps even stupidity to me. (To be fair, Lara redeems herself in the end, but I would be revealing too much if I were to explain how.)

Despite the high-pitched dramatic conflict, the novel starts slowly. I had a hard time getting into it because I didn't completely understand the historical background. (Sorry, but medieval Scotland is not my forte.) Fortunately, things are clarified as we go along without falling into the all too frequent error of indulging in details more appropriate for a history manual. As I progressed through the book, I had a harder time putting it down. While The Maid of Lorne doesn't milk its perturbing premise for all its worth, it is well written and engrossing and quite ideal for a rainy afternoon.

--Mary Benn