“I just wanted to bid you good morning, Papa,” she said sweetly, her smile as wide as the glen.
He gave her a stern glare. “I assume ye lost the draw, then.”
She batted her lashes. “What draw is that, Papa?”
“The one where ye and your sisters drew bits of straw to see which of ye would come and convince me to let the Englishman win.”
Her eyes slid sideways. “We’d never do such a thing, Papa. We trust your judgment.”
“Do ye now? And if I said I intended to force the Sassenach to leave this glen today, what—”
“Oh, Papa, you wouldn’t! You promised Gilly he could take part in the contest, try to be reasona—” She shut her mouth with a snap when she realized he’d fooled her.
“Trust me, do ye? Ye haven’t come to bid me good morning since ye were seven and liked to go fishing in the loch with your stepmother.”
Her lips rippled. “I came to tell you . . . well, to say . . .” She raised her chin and fixed him with a forthright blue gaze. “English John was at Carraig Brigh when I was there with Fia, before she wed Dair. He’s a good man, Papa. I just wanted to remind you of that. John rescued Dair from an English prison, brought him home. He helped Fia and me to escape, when they would havekilledher.” She shuddered and bit her lip. “We wouldn’t have made it without his help. He put his life in peril for us. I hope you’ll be fair, Papa.”
Another debt he owed the man. “I am always fair,” he said sharply. “And this doesn’t concern ye, Maighread MacLeod—unless ye want to marry him yourself?”
She looked horrified. “Me? Nay. He’s Gillian’s!”
He put his hand on her back and gently moved her toward the door. “Not yet he’s not,” he said, and pushed her into the hall and shut the door before she could argue.
