“Not in here lad.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes as he backtracked and slipped his shoes off outside the door, walking back into the kitchen in just his stockings. She nodded with satisfaction and bade him sit, pushing a bowl of parritch towards him.
“I understand ye’re off tae fetch young Fiona frae Braenaird Keep.”
His attention sharpened on her even as he spooned some parritch and brought it to his lips. “Ye ken her?”
Mrs. Dougal smiled fondly as she continued to knead her dough, watery grey eyes far away. “Aye. Little Fiona Douglass was a little firebrand when she was a lassie. I dinnae reckon they managed tae beat it oot o’ her.”
“So she’s likely tae gi’ me trouble?”
Mrs. Dougal shrugged. “I dinnae ken. Havenae seen her in a few years. Not since the auld laird fell ill.”
“Hmmm.” Daividh slurped his parritch thoughtfully, filing away the information in case it became necessary.
“Are ye sure aboot this lad? He willnae fail ye?” Pàdraig Dàibhidh Hunter, Laird of Cumlochan, asked his friend, Laird of Dunavar.
Donnchadh nodded slowly. “He has proven himself time and again to be reliable. I havenae any doubt he will deliver. ”
“Guid. Because ’tis important that we are wed before news of Laird Braenaird’s death spreads. Ye ken the urgency as weel as I do.”
“Aye, I do. That is why I chose Campbell. I gave him three days he will be here in the beginning of the third. I am sure of it.”
“Aye weel...I hope ye’re right aboot this. I dinnae want tae think of the consequences if ye’re not.”
“Neither do I. I wouldnae ha’ chosen him if I wasnae sure. So ye can stop worrying. Have some uisge and wait.”
Laird Cumlochan sighed as he moved to the drinks tray and poured himself a large glass of whisky. He lifted his glass to Laird Dunavar. “Slainte.”
Laird Dunavar nodded back then turned away from his friend before letting his brow furrow with worry. He could not help but worry. There was a lot riding on the success of this venture. This girl was too valuable. That is why he needed a warrior.
Chapter 1
Ùna was keeping an excited eye on the road as the rest of the Douglass girls continued with their embroidery under the watchful eye of their governess. Fiona, being the temporary head of the house, was not required to sit with the others. But there was not much else to do at this time of day and all her sisters were here. She knew from the letter her uncle sent that she did not have much time left to spend with them.
There was Jamesina who was Fiona’s follower and the spitting image of their mother with her fiery red locks and deer-wide brown eyes. The procession of freckles across her nose highlighted her resemblance to a doe. Fenella and Maisie were the terrible two, chestnut-haired twins identical down to their impish grins. They were doe-eyed too though they lacked the innocence that brightened Jamesina’s eyes. Aileen was the quiet unassuming fourth-born, coltishly tall, rail-thin, and pale. The very epitome of a shrinking violet. In spite of her height, she was a veritable wallflower. Then there was Ùna who was round with baby fat, her hazel eyes bright and interested in everything. She wore her auburn curls in two long plaits and tended to bounce about rather than walk.
Fiona loved them all as much as they loved her, and hoped that these summons to her uncle’s house would not take her away from them for too long. Now that their father had unfortunately passed away, they all looked to her for reassurance. She already missed them even though she had not left yet. She lowered her head to hide the sadness in her green eyes, a lock of red hair falling into her eyes. She flicked it back and pasted a smile on her face before turning back to her sisters, straightening her shoulders so that her slim frame stood tall and confident among them. It would not do to show weakness now.
Suddenly Ùna screamed and the rest of them immediately put down their sewing in order to crowd around the window and see what she was so happy about.
“There he is! I think that’s him! The man you will travel with.” she squealed. As the youngest amongst them, Ùna was allowed to be unbridled in her enthusiasm. The rest of them felt obligated to display a more stoic mien. Maisie and Fenella turned to Fiona. “D’ye think that it’s him? What did the letter say? He looks handsome. And strong. He’ll be able to protect us without any trouble.”
Curiosity piqued, Fiona moved to the window as well. Her uncle’s letter had simply stated that he had arranged a marriage for her and that she was to come to Dunavar at once. He would send someone to fetch her.
He had not said whether the person he was sending was the groom. She narrowed her eyes at the tall man riding straight-backed into their compound, he had long hair falling to his shoulders and he was not shaved. A claymore strapped to his side. He resembled a soldier more than a lord. Was she to travel alone with him if he was not to be her husband?
“I’m not sure who he is,” she said softly. “I suspect we shall find out soon enough.”
“Can we go down tae meet him?” Ùna barely restrained herself from jumping up and down.
“We shall wait for him tae be announced and then we go. Have ye forgotten yer manners already?” Fiona gave her an admonishing glance even as the governess nodded approvingly.
“I’m sorry.” Ùna curled in on herself, suitably chastened. Fiona patted her on the head and then moved aside so that Aileen could pick her up and hold her in her lap, even though Ùna really was too old
