Page 25 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

Now the old man's eyes were locked once again into his own. "What is yer game? Why do ye want my daughter?"

"Sir, the laird of Duncan sent orders for his daughter tae return tae the clan castle. I am merely carrying them out." There was a pause as the old man's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"The laird? What has he got tae do with anything?"

Suddenly, Andrew did not know what to think. Until that moment, he had not realized that the man might not have known who Grace's father was.

"Well, he is Grace's father," said Andrew limply. He turned to look at the old man; he was a crumpled wreck. The man was just standing there, in the middle of the room, looking as if he might collapse. He looked so forlorn that Andrew felt obliged to try and help him to a seat.

Then, finally, when he had gotten him sitting down, Andrew continued.

"Grace is the oldest bairn of the laird," he said simply. "An' I am under orders tae see she returns tae the castle." He broke the news as gently as he could but seeing the man's broken expression was hard. "There's nothing tae fash about. She'll be quite safe."

"But..." The old man floundered like a landed fish, his pale lips opening and closing in quick succession. "I had nay idea."

Andrew smiled sympathetically, then stood up.

"Sir, I will ensure the lass is well looked after. An' I am sure ye will be sent for in due course," he added, as a sweetener. He could see that the old man was going to take some persuading. Of course, he would have taken Grace anyway, but it would be better to leave with his blessing.

Now the blacksmith stood up too. "Alright," he said, looking grave. "But first, let me say goodbye tae my lassie."

"Of course," said Andrew politely. He went outside the house and found Grace standing not far from the front of the door. Silently, he ushered her in.

Grace came back inside the house, pushing her dark curls to the back, and glanced at Andrew with a very unsure expression. Andrew could tell she had no idea what was going on and braced himself for impact.

Then, he watched as Grace filed into the room with her father. Rather than watching, Andrew thought it best if he give them both some space. So instead, he walked around the outside of the cottages, which belonged to the workers of the Ferguson castle. They were pleasantly tended to, with lush green vegetable patches at either side of them. In the front, some of the residents had planted fruit trees and blooms, giving a picturesque quality to the front of the village.

Andrew could not imagine what the poor, heartbroken blacksmith was saying to his daughter inside, but it did not take as long as he might have imagined.

Suddenly, Grace emerged from the cottage with a face of stone. Eyes blazing, she turned to Andrew, almost spitting in his eye.

"Ye!" she hissed as if this was all his doing somehow. Andrew, who had faced many scary things in battle, instinctively edged away.

"Ye! I should have kent ye were up tae something. Well, ye might have convinced a poor old man o' yer tall tales, but ye dinnae fool me!" Her eyes flashed wildly.

This, he had not been expecting. Wondering how to calm her down, Andrew tried and failed to reassure her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, which she almost slapped away. Stepping back, Grace stared into his eyes.

"An' I can tell ye another thing. I am nae coming anywhere wi' ye. I dinnae believe a word o' it!"