Page 40 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

"That's what I mean, Fiona. He isnae my father. He's the wee auld blacksmith back at the Ferguson estate. He's yers, yers an' yer sisters, an' I am truly sorry for yer loss."

Fiona looked down, and Grace could see she was struggling to get a grip of herself. The dark-haired lass who looked like her was very self-contained, but she was also a young girl who had just lost her father.

Instinctively, Grace moved over to her, standing by the chair and giving her arm a little squeeze.

Fiona screwed her eyes up tight, banishing any trace of emotion, and smiled, but it looked a little worn.

"Thank ye," she said lightly. She rose from the chair, and for a while, Grace thought she was going to simply leave the room, but she didn't. Instead, she walked across the polished floorboards, inspecting the four-poster bed as if for the first time. Then, once she had poked and prodded it, she sighed a little.

"Nay, Grace, it's ye I feel sorry for," she said sweetly, her catlike eyes shining. "Because ye never got to meet Father...an' he truly was the greatest father anyone could ask for."

Grace felt instantly sorry for Fiona, who was clearly struggling with the grief. Once again, she felt like she was intruding.

"I wish I had met him," agreed Grace. She was surprised to find herself feeling strangely emotional. "It is clear he was well-loved by all that kent him, an' nae least by yer mother."

Grace sent a pertinent shot to Fiona. She couldn't help being direct. All this time and she still had not been able to figure out what had happened to the sisters' mother.

"Aye, she adored him," said Fiona, sitting down on the bed. Grace came and sat beside her. She wondered what had happened to the lady of the clan. "Did right up ’til the day she died, too..."

Grace looked over inquisitively. She had wondered if their mother was dead but hadn't liked to ask. Right then, she was struggling with herself, wondering how to word her next question. As usual, it was difficult. So, true to form, Grace just blurted it all out.

"So, when did she die?" she asked innocuously.

Fiona frowned. Then, she continued, pensive. "When Lissie was born, nigh a decade ago..." started Fiona, her dark head hanging down. Grace felt instant regret for asking her. Fiona had a lot to deal with; she knew that. "Unfortunately, she never knew Mother...an' there isnae even much left o' her things. There was a fire in the chambers a few years ago, an' a lot o' stuff was burnt, including her letters. Very sad."

"That must have been bad," said Grace. "Especially for Lissie," she added. "I ken what it's like nae tae ken yer mother..."

Fiona raised her head. "O' course ye do," she said, as if she was ashamed of her earlier outburst. Grace wondered if she should ask her new sister for more details about her own mother. Surely someone had to know something. But then, she changed her mind. Perhaps it would not be tactful. Instead, she changed tack.

"Well, I expect having yer aunt here has helped Lissie a wee bit as a step-in mother," said Grace. She was only making conversation, but when she saw Fiona's face, it didn't immediately radiate enthusiasm.

"Aye," said Fiona. "Anabelle has been here, aye," she said, in a voice that suggested they were not overly close. "Aye, I suppose she has been a help."

Grace's eyes scanned Fiona. She could not shake the feeling that she was damning Anabelle with faint praise. Although she hadn't seemed unfriendly when they were together, so Grace put the thought to the back of her mind.

"I suppose she lives here wi' her husband?" said Grace, more for conversation than anything else. She sat and waited, expecting to hear about Anabelle's family and all the cousins she must surely have.

But, to her surprise, Fiona shook her head. "Nay," she said. "Anabelle's nae married. She lives here on her own, just wi' the rest o' us." She smiled ruefully, leaving Grace wondering.

Perhaps it wasn't that strange. Not every woman married, and maiden aunts were hardly unknown, especially when there were young children to take care of.

There was a pause, as all the questions Grace had to ask swirled about her head. There were so many things she couldn't work out, and it was hard to know where to begin.

Suddenly, she couldn't find the right words. Clearing her throat, she said nervously, "So, um, Andrew, the lad who brought me here..." Grace bit her lip uneasily. "I can see from the cheering earlier that he is well thought of, but I couldnae help but think what he is really like..." Her voice trailed off. This was the second direct question, but Fiona looked relieved.

"Och, he is the hero o' the clan, he really is. We really need tae hang on tae him. I only hope that one day he finds someone who makes him happy." She stopped and smirked, sending Grace a pointed look. Grace blushed. It must have been obvious why she was asking, but she could not help herself.

"An' Father thought such a lot o' him that he told him about ye afore he told us!"

Fiona's words pricked at Grace, turning over and again in her conscience. Once again, she felt bad for the way the sisters had found out about her, although it had also been a shock for her.

Seeing her uncertain face, Fiona rushed to reassure her. "Nae that it's yer fault. On the contrary. Ye want tae have answers even more than we do. An' rest assured, we'll all try an' help ye there, an' so will Andrew." Her eyes flashed quickly at Grace with a tight smile.

"An' if there's anything ye want tae ken about us, or Father, or Andrew, just ye ask us..." said Fiona, her eyes glimmering at the mention of Andrew.

Grace instantly blushed. "Thank ye," she said politely, but it was with warmth that she took Fiona's hand. Then Grace grew thoughtful. "But it seems there's only one person who may ken more about my real mother an' all that happened, an' that isnae ye, nae Andrew...but Paton…”

From the little that Andrew had told her, he had been there on the night of her birth. He must know something of her mother and why she had been sent away.

At the mention of Paton's name, Fiona grew pensive.

"Aye," she said slowly. Grace sensed there was something she wanted to say but had not yet figured out how to say it. "But take care because I get the feeling sometimes there are things that Paton doesnae want tae tell us."

Grace felt a chill enter the room. Even though the fire in the grate was burning, she suddenly felt the cold. The impression of the man's face came to her. He had been strange and overbearing. Then again, a lot of men were. If she had had a penny for every man who had gotten a little frisky with her, she would be wealthy indeed.

"What things?" asked Grace breathlessly.

But Fiona looked as if she was regretting her words. "Och, dinnae fash," said Fiona a little dismissively, but Grace could tell by her face she did not mean it. After a short while, she relented. "Och, just, I dinnae ken, he is the guardian o' the clan, an' aye, our Billie isnae up tae it… An' it's true, there' fighting between the clans, an' we need someone who kens what tae do. The clan needs the stability. But I get the feeling he is very happy about that. An' if we're nae careful, he will want tae win the clan for himself. Perhaps he even has."

There was silence as Grace struggled to process what she had just heard.

Then Fiona stood up to go.

"Och, I dinnae ken. Ye should ignore me. But one thing, Grace..." Fiona reached out for Grace with her hand. "Just be a wee bit careful around Paton..."