Page 7 of Claimed Highland Brides

6

HARSH REALITY

T hey rode into Dunavar that evening, feeling road-weary and relieved for the chance of a hot bath and to sleep in a clean bed. Fiona was exhausted and just wanted to get to a bed and sleep the night away. Tomorrow was soon enough to face her fate. Her heart sank when she saw her uncle waiting at the door of the castle, his arms folded, face dark like thunder.

Daividh alighted from his horse, surrendering the reins to a waiting groom. He walked up to her uncle and bowed before gesturing toward her. “As ordered, I have brought Miss Fiona tae ye.”

Her uncle puffed air noisily out of his nose, his face twisted with anger. “What took ye sae long? What did ye do? Dawdle in the middle? I told ye this was urgent!”

Daividh pursed his lips but said nothing. Fiona slid down from her horse. “We came as fast as we could,” she called, even as the laird’s chest heaved with anger. “Your soldier did not even let us tarry even one night at Braenaird even at gloaming. So gonny nae shout sae loud at him. It isnae his fault.”

Her uncle narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that any way tae speak tae me Fi? Sae disrespectfully?”

“Ah’m sorry, Uncle. I dinnae mean tae insult ye.”

The laird nodded curtly and pointed inside. “Go on wi’ ye and powder yer nose. I mun’ speak tae my soldier.”

Fiona hesitated, looking from Daividh to her uncle. “We came as fast as we could, Uncle Donn. We dinnae tarry. Truly.”

“I believe ye. Now gang.” He inclined his head behind him and Fiona went, following a rotund woman dressed in a white apron and cap, who kept up a stream of chatter as they went. She pointed out various chambers as they passed: the great hall, the parlor, the hall to the kitchen. “Are ye familiar wi’ this place? I havenae seen ye ever since I was retained as a housekeeper.”

“Nae, Uncle Donnchadh usually came to see us at Braenaird. It was easier frae him since he dinnae have any bairns.”

"Ach welcome to ye then." She turned and smiled before opening a door to a chamber where the massive four-poster bed was already turned down and a wooden tub was filled with steaming water. Their bags stood waiting at the foot of the bed. "If'n ye need aught just call out. A body will be nearby."

"Aye thank 'e." Fiona gave the woman a smile as she backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. She whipped around, eager to be out of her gown. "Help me wi' th' laces."

Julieta hurried forward to undo her stays and then rubbed at her reddened skin to sooth it before helping her into the bath.

"Aahhh!" Fiona leaned back, closing her eyes and relaxing. "I needed this." She sighed.

"Aye," Julieta agreed quietly. "’Tis been a tiring trip."

"Mmmm."

* * *

"Where were ye?" the laird demanded, glaring daggers at Daividh.

"As the lassie told ye?—"

"Dinnae be smart wi' me Campbell! I dinnae appreciate it at all. Ye were tasked tae be here by yesterday. What was the delay?"

Daividh shrugged. "’Tis not so simple traveling wi' women. They require rest stops more frequently. They get tired. We cannae go as fast as wi' a regiment."

The laird narrowed his eyes at Daividh. "Ye seem disturbingly familiar wi' my niece. Ye havenae been overstepping yer bounds, have ye?"

Daividh gritted his teeth. "I dinnae ken what ye're implyin' but I dinnae appreciate it."

The laird stepped closer, thrusting his face close to Daividh's. He looking up now. "Go canny there laddie. Ye dinnae want tae play me frae a fool. Ye willnae like the consequences."

Daividh lowered his head and stared straight into his eyes without blinking and didn't say a word. He knew he could not reply to the Laird. All he could do was look at him.

The laird huffed pointedly and then walked away, his shoulders stiff and his gait jerky with anger.

Daividh watched him go before turning and heading to his own quarters, his mind churning.

* * *

A knock on the door woke Fiona up from the nap she'd been having in the bath. Water splashed on the floor as she sat up suddenly. Julieta also sat up from where she was resting on the bed.

"Who is it?" Fiona called.

"The McCormick would like tae see ye," a strange voice replied.

"Aye alrigh'. Give me a few minutes tae get dressed."

The sound of footsteps fading down the corridor was the only sign that the person had heard them. Fiona got to her feet and stepped out of the bath. Julieta came forward to help her dry and get dressed. Then she strode out of the room, hesitating in the dim corridor as she wondered which direction to go. The scuff of a footfall had her jumping as her hand flew to her heart.

"Apologies. I dinnae mean tae scare ye."

"Daividh! What are ye doing here?"

"I...came tae see if ye were alrigh'."

Fiona smiled. "I'm fine. I have had a nice bath."

"Aye. Ye smell of flowers and fresh linen."

Fiona laughed. "I hate tae imagine wha' I must ha' smelled of before."

Daividh grinned. "Day-old flowers perhaps?"

"Ye're an awful man." She hit his arm softly, still beaming.

He spread his arms out. "And yet...here ye are."

Fiona snorted, striding past him with her head held high. "My uncle is expecting me. I must gang tae him."

He turned as well, following her with his eyes. "Oh. D'ye ken where tae gang?"

Fiona shook her head and he immediately fell in step beside her. "Come then. I'll show ye."

Turning to look at him, she nodded her permission and then had to suppress a gasp as his arm brushed against hers. Her breath came short and she had to turn away to hide her suddenly crimson face.

"Is something the matter?" He peered curiously at her downturned face. She shook her head vigorously, allowing her fiery hair to fall forward and further shield her countenance from him.

He continued to stare until she peeked at him from beneath her lashes. Offering her a smile, he nudged her with his elbow and cocked an eyebrow. A burst of laughter escaped her as she lifted her head finally to meet his eyes, her own brimming with mirth. His eyes, half-lidded and dark with desire, dropped to her mouth.

Fluttering her eyes in response, she bit her bottom lip and he watched it disappear into her mouth, emerging moments later wet, plump, and rosy.

He uttered a pained sound as he inadvertently leaned closer, hands closing and opening in almost irresistible need to touch. His mouth went dry as his vision honed in on her lips.

Just one taste. That's all I need.

"There ye are!" The voice startled them and they jumped apart. "I was just coming tae fetch ye. Stupid lassie was supposed tae bring ye tae the great room and she just left ye tae—" The housekeeper's eyes fell on Daividh and widened in surprise. "Oh! I see ye found a worthy escort. Guid day t'ye Mr. Campbell."

Daividh made a very elegant leg. "And t'ye Mrs. O'Brien."

The old lady simmered and blushed, waving Daividh away. "Go on wi' ye." She laughed, taking Fiona's hand and propelling her along toward an ornately decorated door. The housekeeper stopped outside it and turned to Fiona with a smile. "Yer uncle's inside. Dinnae keep him waiting."

Fiona nodded at the old woman's words but she still could not help looking back at Daividh, whose tall frame was just disappearing around the corner. She took a deep breath, fixed a smile to her face, and opened the door.

Her uncle was sitting at a long table. He looked up as she entered and smiled, getting to his feet to greet her. "My dear Fiona!" He surveyed her up and down as he took her hand in his. "Ye're looking much refreshed."

He kissed her knuckles before gesturing for her to sit. "Have ye had some refreshment? I have asked the cook to bring ye some fish and bread."

Fiona's stomach chose that moment to gurgle, though they both politely ignored it.

"Yes thank 'e. That will be lovely."

She took a seat and turned expectantly to her uncle, chin up, eyes as clear as she could make them, hands folded in her lap. With a sigh, her uncle retook his own seat and turned to her with a smile. She could not help but notice that his eyes were a lot sadder than the last time she had seen him, when he came to spend Christmas with them.

“’Tis truly guid tae see ye, goddaughter.”

She smiled. “’Tis guid tae see ye too, godfaither. Although the need frae haste makes me fashit. Is something the matter wi’ our home? Is there a debt I dinnae ken aboot?”

Uncle Donnchadh sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing sae...pressing. But ye’re faither dinnae on’y leave ye the hoose and land it sits on my dear. There’s more.”

She lifted a skeptical eyebrow, as she had acted as her father’s secretary on all his business affairs. “Oh?”

“Aye. Yer mither also came into their marriage with a significant dowry. One tae kill frae. Very soon, the vultures will be agatherin’ and it will be prudent tae be protected afore that has happened.”

Fiona’s eyebrows rose even higher. Her father had never mentioned such a dowry.

“The dowry was to be passed on to the eldest of her children, which is you, upon marriage. If’n we dinnae manage this verra carefully, ye might find yersel’ abducted and wed by force.”

She gasped, hand to her chest. “Who would do tha’?”

The laird snorted although his eyes grew sadder. “Ye’re a sweet child and ye dinnae ken what men would do frae greed.”

“But...Uncle,” she ventured tentatively, “why can I no choose my own husband?”

He stiffened in his seat, glaring balefully at her. “Have ye no been listening tae a word I’ve said? D’ye not ken the lengths any man would gang tae, in order to win ye? Ye think ye can choose better than me?”

Fiona shifted in her seat in the wake of his anger. She had never seen the laird so aroused to fury. It was a little terrifying. “Nae, Uncle. I-I beg yer pardon.”

He slumped back in his seat, looking defeated yet relieved. “I apologize frae scaring ye. I dinnae mean tae do tha’.”

“I-It’s quite alright.”

At that moment there was a slight knock on the door and then it opened right away to reveal a manservant holding a tray of steaming dishes. Fiona perked up at once, as she was quite hungry. The manservant crossed the table and placed the tray in front of her. As he was about to leave, she restrained him by pulling on his wrist. “Uh, excuse me, but would ye be so kind as to tak’ a tray to my body servant? She is in my chambers at the moment.”

The manservant bowed. “Of course, ma’am. I believe someone has awready been dispatched tae bring her some food.”

“Guid.” She released his wrist. “I thank ‘e.”

“Ye’re welcome ma’am.” The manservant walked out and Fiona dug into her food with focused intensity. She really was very hungry. Her uncle silently watched her eat and for that she was grateful. She did not feel like speaking about her impending marriage on an empty stomach.

As soon as she put her plate aside, however, he began to speak as he got to his feet. “My dear, I believe we have kept yer future husband waiting long enough. Come wi’ me and meet him.”

She tried to smile as she got to her feet but it was difficult. Taking her uncle’s proffered arm, she allowed him to lead her to a small balcony adjacent to the room. There stood a man, fairly short in stature—at least in comparison to Daividh—but taller than she was. He turned to her and smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes multiplying tenfold it seemed. His pale red hair seemed to be fading fast to grey and thinning as well. She was surprised that he did not wear a wig.

She stretched her lips, trying to smile and not scream in horror. The man walked towards her and for a hopeful moment, she hoped that he was the father of her future husband. He took her hand in his dry callused one and brought her knuckles to his lips. She suppressed a shudder as he placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

“My dear Miss Douglass, so pleased I am to meet ye. I expect we shall get on famously. I am Padraig Hunter, Laird of Glendale, and your husband-to-be.”