Page 11 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

Once they were out of earshot, Grace glanced pertinently at Fiona.

"So then," she said searchingly. Fiona looked at her blankly.

In the background, the feasting was going on. Now the fiddlers had cracked up a merry jig, and all of the guests were enjoying themselves. Since Grace had appeared, Clyde had made himself scarce, and now Fiona could no longer see him. It was hard for Fiona not to feel exasperated.

"So then, what?" she snapped. Then she paused. "Sorry..."

But Grace just smiled. She was alive with fun tonight, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. Marcus, her bairn, was already in bed, and she was free for the night's entertainment. Which, judging by her face, seemed to be Fiona.

"Dinnae fash, wee sister. I was just coming to see how things were developing." Grace said this last word in such a way that it was crystal clear what she meant. Fiona's deep blush answered for her.

"That well?" Grace smirked, and Fiona desperately wished to smack her. Indeed, she was feeling quite a surprise at her own volatility. "Well, braw, wee sister. Just one thing... Is he still betrothed to the maid o' Anderson?"

Grace's words stabbed her like a knife. Quickly, Fiona looked up. Grace's amber eyes met hers watchfully.

"What?" asked Fiona in a horrified whisper. Then, she tried to pretend she had not been taken so aback. "I mean, well, so what?"

Grace just nodded. "I mean, nae just a couple o' wee months back he was in a romantic predicament wi' the Anderson lassie."

What Anderson lassie?were Fiona's first thoughts. She felt her stomach turn cold. Then she suppressed an urge to react. Instead, she smiled sweetly.

"Well, it isnae any o' my business," she said smoothly. Then she fixed Grace with a cool and truculent stare. But Grace was ready for her.

"Och, but it is," she replied crisply. "I mean, Fiona, look at ye. Ye’re the belle o' the ball. I've nae seen ye so bonny. Ye didnae get dolled up for some dull wee trade arrangement!"

Now Fiona was bristling. Grace may have been giving a compliment, but it was so backhanded it almost bounced off the walls.

"I didnae get dressed up for anyone!" she hissed. The look on her face must have been evident, as some elders at the table opposite turned to stare. Smiling at them weakly, Fiona got them to turn away. Once they had stopped gawking, she glared at Grace.

But Grace did not care. "Wheest, o' course ye did, an' that's alright, Fiona," she said in such a voice that Fiona could not be aggrieved any longer. Grace gave her a sympathetic look.

"An' as far as I ken, he isnae wed—yet, at least. So I would say there's every chance o' a union between the Duncans an' the Greenock clan." Her eyes flashed to Fiona's pertinently.

"What are ye saying, Grace?" asked Fiona, although it was clear enough to anyone.

Grace just sighed, and fixing her gaze firmly to Fiona, she said, "I'm saying ye should marry him, ye bampot!"