Cora looked at the Rose. “Well the day this Rose becomes golden I will fall for you.”
He looked at her puzzled.
“That means never!” she said. “But-” Cora said with a playful attitude.”In return, you must promise not to fall in love withme!”
“I will try not to, even if it breaks my heart,” Clyde said gallantly. “We must not let anyone in on our secret, not even Minetta. Agreed?”
Cora nodded, then he stood up and lit the fire, which was already stacked with logs, took her hand, and walked outside with her. “Come, I want to show you something. You can see for miles up here.”
They walked through the trees and suddenly came to a place where the hill dropped away steeply, and the whole of the Kenmuir Valley was spread out before them. Almost directly below them were the navy blue waters of Loch Kenmuir, its water shivering in the light breeze coming from the mountains.
“The same color as your eyes,” Clyde observed.
“Don’t be silly.” Cora smiled. “My eyes are not as blue as that.”
It was May, when spring came to the Highlands, and beyond the loch were gentle slopes covered in bright pink meads of heather and startling lemon-yellow gorse bushes. Great weathered granite boulders grew out of the ground here and there and served as perches for crows, pigeons, and birds of prey, which wheeled and glided around the hazy sky. Far beyond the rolling green sheep-strewn hills were the jagged edges of distant mountains, painted blue by the distance, and Cora knew that if she could fly over those, she would come to the turbulent waters of the Irish Sea.
“Is our country not the loveliest on Earth?” she breathed.
“Indeed it is,” Clyde agreed, smiling. “I am so proud to be a Scot.”
They stood for a few more moments gazing at the view before them, then Cora turned away and began to wander back to the hut, suddenly remembering that she had no home to call her own anymore, not even a rough little house in the forest.
“You are thinking about your home,” Clyde said, as if he had read her mind. It was a statement, not a question.
Cora nodded, her throat too full of tears to speak.
“I have managed to get some messages to our allies.” Clyde’s voice was grim. “But it seems that everyone is having much the same problem. Please do not give up hope, Cora. We will find a way to beat them, and you have not been forgotten. As soon as my garrison is back to its usual strength, we will go and tear them to pieces.” His voice was a snarl.
They walked back to the hut, where the fire was blazing merrily, and spent the rest of the day in pleasant conversation, during which time Cora discovered that Clyde was the least laird-like laird she had ever met.
Clyde found out that Cora was a far stronger woman than he had thought at first. She was resolved to get her father’s estate back, and told him that she would do it even if she died in the attempt. He believed her; the determination was evident in her eyes.
6
Andrew Sutherland was not a patient man, and now he was losing what little forbearance he had. He glared at his new betrothed, Loraine MacKenzie, as if he were shooting daggers through her as she stood in front of him, nervously shifting from foot to foot. She was beautiful, if not very intelligent, but she would look good on his arm as he entertained guests and did business with other clans. A pretty wife was a great asset to a man.
“What did Clyde Munro say?” he demanded furiously. “What is he going to do?” He stood up and moved threateningly towards her.
Loraine had no fear that Andrew would hit her; he was not that kind of man, but he could be cruel in other ways, although most of the time he was kind and good-natured. The biggest problem with him was his mercurial temperament; he could be sweetness and light at one moment and crazed with anger the next, but he was only vicious with his tongue.
Now he stood one step away from her, their noses almost touching as he glared at her.
“I told him that I thought he was dead after the battle,” she replied timidly. “Then I told him I loved you, that it was love at first sight. He was angry and sarcastic, and for a moment, I was afraid of him, but when he realized that I meant what I said, he left—very quickly indeed!”
“Good girl!” Andrew said appreciatively as he wrapped his arms around her. “A fine-looking man like him has much self-conceit. It must have been a blow to him to find out you no longer love him. Thank you, my dear. You did very well.”
His dark eyes smiled down at her, and Loraine returned the smile. He was a tolerable man, even if he was not as tall or handsome as Clyde. He had a pleasant face, and his hair, although thinning on top, was still almost as black as it had been when he was a young man. She was content with her choice; Clyde was the past, and Andrew was the future. He was an old man—almost fifty years of age—and he had already buried two wives, one dead of consumption and one in childbirth. He had no heirs, and he needed to get one quickly.
He was under no illusions about Loraine; she did not love him and was likely after him for his wealth, and she was not a virgin, for she had lain with Clyde. However, she was young, beautiful, and hopefully fertile.
“We should have a ceilidh,” Loraine suggested, “to celebrate our betrothal.” She smiled, and her lovely face lit up. “We can even invite Clyde to let him see how happy we are. I can have a new dress made! He will be pea-green with envy!” She clapped her hands and chuckled.
Andrew smiled, his anger suddenly disappearing, and then he poured them both a glass of wine. “A wonderful idea, my lovely wee girl!”
“We can invite all the clans in the area...but will they be safe?” She looked fearful. “This area is dangerous, and I would hate anyone to lose their lives on our behalf.”
“Pfft!” Andrew gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “They will all have their own guards. But if it makes you feel better to invite some to stay overnight, then they can see how splendid a Baronial castle is.”
