Page 12 of Claimed Highland Brides

11

THE FUTURE IS DETERMINED BY THE PAST

D aividh watched Fiona run off with a frown on his face. There was no way the girl could expect him to just sit back while she married the old man. Not after seeing the abject fear in her eyes and the manner in which the laird had spoken to her. He had followed when Fiona stomped out of the great hall and then concealed himself in the shadows when he saw her bump into the laird.

He could not clearly hear their conversation but her body language said enough, as did the sharp cutting edge of the laird’s voice, the contempt in his face. Whatever reason the laird had for wanting her for his wife, he clearly held no tender feelings for her.

That knowledge, strangely, was what freed Daividh from his reticence. If the man did not even care for her, why should he worry about encroaching on the laird’s territory? The girl had asked for his help and he would give it to her. If it resulted in a broken engagement, then so much the better. He was willing to admit that his feelings for the lady were a little more than platonic.

He turned back to the dining hall only to find his friend Simon leaning on the wall, waiting for him. He shook his head slowly. “Daividh, my friend, ye’re playing wi’ fire.”

Daividh wondered if he should feign ignorance. But Simon was more than his friend, he was a brother. Daividh sighed. “I dinnae care. She’s worth it.”

“Just please, tell me ye have a plan.”

“I have a plan.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Why do I even bother?”

“Because my mither told ye tae look oot frae me afore I left hame?”

Simon pretended sudden enlightenment. “Och aye, I forgot, that’s why!”

Daividh huffed a laugh. “Dinnae fash, I dinnae aim tae do anythin’ too dangerous.”

Simon sighed in resignation. “What d’ye need me tae do?”

Daividh grinned in gratitude. “Cover for me. I have tae gang tae Glendale and find oot who this laird is.”

Simon sighed louder. “And then what will ye do eh? There isnae a thing ye can do tae change anything.”

“We dinnae ken tha’.” Suddenly he sobered, looking his friend in the eye. “I have tae try, Simon.”

Simon considered him for a long while. “Och, ye ken I will do all I can tae help ye.”

Daividh nodded, clapping him companionably on the shoulder. “Thank ‘e mo charaid .”

* * *

The gravity of her situation hit Fiona in the middle of the night as she lay sleepless in her bed. There was not really much she could do about it though. Her uncle had contracted a marriage for her and aside from Laird Hunter’s death or her uncle changing his mind, she did not see how else she could get out of it.

She turned over to her side with a sigh, wishing that Jamesina was here. She and her sister could always talk about anything.

She sat up suddenly, eyes wide, thinking about her sisters. Laird Hunter had not promised in any specific way to take care of them. She scrambled out of bed, grabbed her robe, and put her feet into her slippers even as she shuffled towards the door.

“Where are ye gang?” Julieta’s sleepy voice came from the other side of the room.

“I have tae see my uncle.” Fiona jerked the door open.

“The noo? He’ll be asleep.”

“I dinnae care. I cannae wait.”

She slipped her robe on as she shuffle-ran down the hall, towards the west wing where her uncle’s rooms were. When she reached his door she fisted her hands, banging on the door to wake him. A footman stood at one end of the corridor, studiously ignoring her.

“Uncle Donnchadh?” she called.

“Wha’...?” She could hear his muffled confused voice even through the thick wood of the door.

“I need tae speak t’ye.”

She heard more muffled movements, and shuffling footsteps, and then the door opened and the laird’s pale face appeared in the gap. “Wha’s this aboot?” he rasped, his voice grumpy.

“My sisters, I have tae ken, Uncle Donnchadh. When I am wed, they will come wi’ me tae Glendale? They’ll be taken care of?”

The laird hesitated, his eyes shifting away.

“Uncle Donnchadh!” She searched his eyes for hope and found none.

“I will see tae them, dinnae fash,” he said quietly, finally meeting her eyes. She could tell he meant it but was not too pleased with the prospect of leaving her sisters behind.

“Why can they no come wi’ me?”

The laird just sighed. “Perhaps later but when a man is newly wed, he doesnae want so many people underfoot. Ye ken?”

Fiona shook her head, indicating her absolute inability to understand. But looking at his face, she knew her uncle could not help her further.

“I will talk tae him,” she declared.

“Fiona!” her uncle called as she hurried away, but she paid him no mind. Rushing down the corridor, she tried to think where Laird Hunter might be housed. She skidded to a stop in front of the footman, considering him thoughtfully.

“Where can I find Laird Hunter?”

The man hesitated, looking towards her uncle’s door. She turned as well, to find that her uncle was still peering at her from his door. She sighed, pursing her lips at him. He hesitated for just a moment before withdrawing his head from the door and shutting it behind him. She turned again to the footman. “Where is he?”

With one final glance at Laird McCormick’s door, the footman pointed further down the corridor to the one remaining door. Fiona was surprised that her uncle would put his guest in the same wing as his, rather than one of the guest wings.

“Thank ‘e.” She flung the words abstractedly at the footman as she covered the small distance that would take her to Hunter’s door. Her knock was more polite but no less demanding.

“Who is it?” His voice sounded wide awake and she had a feeling he knew full well who was at his door.

“It’s me, Lady Fiona.”

“This is most unseemly. Does yer uncle ken that ye seek out the company of men in the middle o’ th’ night?”

Fiona snorted. “I am here wi’ a footman. I simply need tae ask ye a question.”

“Can it no wait until morning?” He sounded profoundly irritated.

“No. It cannae.”

She heard his loud sigh even through the door and then he opened it to peer out at her with raised eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I need tae ask ye if’n my sisters can come wi’ me tae Glendale.”

His eyebrows rose higher. “Well, that is hardly an urgent question.”

He made to close the door and she reached out to stop him. “Please. I need tae ken.”

“In that case, no. Yer sisters cannae come tae Glendale. Are ye satisfied?” He slammed the door in her face.

She stood stock-still, face pale, limbs shaking. It was a shock even though it was no surprise.

“Shall I escort ye tae bed miss?” the footman asked, his voice laced with concern.

Slowly she shook her head. “No thank ‘e.” She shuffled off, feeling as if she were an old woman, limbs creaky with disuse. The only reason she was doing this was for her sisters. If she could not see them, or be with them, then what was the use?

* * *

Daividh set out early in the morning. On a fast horse, Glendale was three days’ ride away and he intended to get there and back before anyone knew he was gone. He knew that Simon would cover for him as best he could but there was only so much the other warrior could do. He did not know what the laird would do if he knew what Daividh was up to. He suspected that it would not be good.

He stopped by the side of the road when he could no longer ride and tethered the horse to a post. He ate some bread and drank water before curling up and going to sleep. At the crack of dawn, he was up and on his horse, riding hell for leather. He arrived in Glendale at dusk of the third day and was relieved to find that the town was large enough to have an inn.

After dunking his head in a basin of water, and shaking the wetness out of his hair like a dog, he ventured into the dining hall and sat near the fire where everyone could see him. He could already see the covert glances cast his way, full of curiosity. He was willing to bet that not many strangers passed through this borough, what with it tucked on the back end of a loch and having nothing to offer the average traveler. The market was small and basic, there was a blacksmith and a butcher in the village as well as a church and a square which was used for market days, executions, and village meetings.

Daividh drank his ale and waited for the people to come to him. It didn’t take long before a burly man with a full beard lumbered over, bleary eyes glaring. “We dinnae tak’ weel tae strangers here,” he said as if issuing a declaration.

Daividh smiled, taking a sip of his drink. “Is that so? What if I bought ye a tankard o’ ale?”

The man hesitated and then sat down. “I suppose…” His words trailed off as Daividh lifted his hand and called for another one. They drank in silence for a while, just sizing each other up.

“Name’s Angus McCabe,” the man said once his tankard was empty. Daividh called for another with a smile.

“Campbell,” he replied.

“Oh aye? Are ye from doon south or up north?”

Daividh hesitated slightly before deciding to lie. “Up north.”

Angus nodded. “Knew a Fraser Campbell from yonder hill. Is he kin t’ye?”

Daividh shook his head. “I dinnae ken him. But I been soldiering for years. Lots a kin I forgot.”

Angus grinned. “Och aye.”

They drank.

“Are ye from around these parts?” Daividh asked.

“Aye. I grew up doon the road.”

Daividh nodded. “Ye’re a crofter then, frae the laird?”

“Aye, my faither used t’be a tacksman for the Hunter.”

“Hunter ye say?”

“Aye. He’s the local laird.”

“Mmm. Is he any good? I'm looking tae sell my sword.”

Angus looked away, a frown marring his forehead. He didn’t say anything which was more than an answer for Daividh.

“I see,” he murmured.

Angus looked at him and then turned, gesturing at an old man on the next table. “Ye should speak wi’ Richard. He can tell ye better’n anyone aboot the laird.”

Daividh perked up. “Och aye, send him over.” He lifted his hand to the serving girl, asking for another tankard to be brought. By the time he turned back, Richard was sitting opposite him, his watery blue eyes fixed on the tankard in front of Daividh. Fortunately, the serving girl brought him his own before he could reach out and grab it.

“Now, tell me aboot the laird,” Daividh said.

“Hunter?” Richard sneered. “He is no laird. Just a barbarian pretending. He come here from Ireland ye ken? Claimed tae be the auld laird’s kin. The laird was childless, welcomed him in. Hunter took advantage, killed him in ‘is sleep.”

Daividh leaned back. “Hmm,” he said skeptically, hoping to loosen the man’s tongue further. “And how would ye ken tha’?”

Richard leaned forward confidentially. “A footman saw the whole thing.”

“Why did ye no have him arrested then?”

Richard snorted. “Who’ll believe a footman ower a laird?”

“And so? He simply took ower the land?”

“Aye.” Richard nodded.

“Why did he no get married?”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “How d’ye ken tha’?”

Daividh froze. “I…”

Richard shook his head. “Aye, ye ken this man do ye no? What’d he take from ye?”

Daividh shook his head. “Nothing...yet.”

Richard sniggered. “Ye should ken tha’ if’n there is something he wants from ye, he willnae stop until he gets it.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh aye. Why d'ya think he isnae marrit?”

Daividh leaned forward, eyes boring into Richard’s. “He set his sights on someone?”

“Aye. There was a baron’s daughter with a dowry he went after. Her father held a jousting competition and said the victor would have the spiles. She was the spiles.”

“Oh aye? I take it he dinnae win?”

Richard shook his head. “Scotsman named Douglass got the prize.”

Daividh lifted an eyebrow. “Douglass ye say? Where frae?”

“Round Braenaird I believe.”

Daividh leaned back, his eyes alight. “I see.”