Page 29 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

8

"Clyde, I'm glad I found ye!"

Clyde looked up from the wooden quaich he had been drinking from. The commotion from the hall was at maximum pitch, and he had eventually wandered away from its noise.

He had come in search of Fiona but been aggrieved when he could not find her.

"Me too," said Clyde simply. He set his whiskey cup down and looked about. There were still guests milling about the hall and out into the narrow corridor that they found themselves in.

From a look at Fiona's face, it was clear she had something important to say to him. Tugging at his sleeve, she pulled him away, out from the clamor of the hunting party and down into a side chamber.

"Come, lass," he said, beckoning her in. Clyde looked around. The small chamber was cold and bare. Whatever this room was, it did not seem as if it had seen much use recently.

Once the door was shut, he looked at her. The serious expression on her youthful cheeks was intense, and he wondered what she was going to say.

Fiona glanced about, finding a couple of heavy oak chairs and dragging them to the center of the room. Seeing her struggle, Clyde immediately leaped up to assist.

"No job for a lassie," he said, taking the heavy wood seat and positioning it by the fire. Fiona gave him such a look that he wished he had never spoken.

"Isnae it?" she said unsurely. "Maybe a bit like being the leader o' a clan?"

Her greenish-brown eyes sparkled, watching him intently, and Clyde did not know what he was supposed to say.

"Um, aye," he said, after a suitable pause. Every time he looked at Fiona, she set him on edge.

She had returned from their ride looking even more radiant than she did earlier. Maybe she had set her hair or something; Clyde wasn't sure. He was not good with the things that women did to their appearance. But somehow, she looked different.

There was a pause, in which he tried very hard not to stare at her small but perfectly cupped bosoms poking through the long clan arisaid she had on. Fiona's dark hair thrust attractively along her cheekbones, and Clyde wished he could see more of it, except it was scooped up in some sort of caul.

Noticing his eyeline, self-consciously, she scooped up the errant hair and attempted to shove it back underneath the caul, or crespine, or whatever the heck that bloody damned thing was stopping him from seeing her hair.

A silence dawned between them. For a few minutes, the raucous hunting party had gone quiet, leaving Fiona and Clyde staring unsurely at each other.

This was more than Clyde could stand, and finally, he coughed.

"Ye look like ye have serious news tae tell me," began Clyde, getting straight to the point. Then his light eyes flashed vivaciously. "Dinnae tell me ye’re getting wed?"

It was meant as a joke, but Fiona's jaw almost crashed onto the floor. "Nay!" she replied, looking aghast. Clyde again wished he had never said anything.

"Wed? Why did ye mention weddings? Has someone been talking tae ye?" Fiona's eyes widened madly.

Clyde felt himself backtracking. "N-No," said Clyde, on the back foot. Fiona's eyes were flaring; they opened so wide that Clyde saw the copper-flecked ring around their centers for the first time. He stared at it, intrigued.

"Well, why did ye mention weddings?" she demanded.

Clyde shook his head. "It's just something that ye say, isnae it? I mean, a young lass, ye’re going tae get wed one day an'..." Clyde's tongue seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Suddenly, he was in freefall, with seemingly no way of stopping.

Clyde wished to hell he could stop talking. He had already given away too much. For a start, it had never been his intention to tell Fiona everything about his predicament with Fraser. And he had not really wanted her to know about his clan's woes. Yet somehow, her searching eyes and gentle poise had worn him down.

Clyde sighed. He had talked himself into a hole, and now he couldn't get out. Silently, he cursed Laird Anderson and his supposedly "easy" mission. Funny how easily he had been talked into this role. All he had to do was charm the lassie and get information. Thing was, she had ended up charming him.

And now Fiona was watching him, with daggers for eyes. Poor Clyde could not quite work out just what he had said to get such a reaction.

It seemed marriage was a touchy subject!

"I mean, ye ken a funny thing, I mysel' was nearly wed once!" Clyde continued. Inside, his brain was shouting at him to stop. Already he had said too much, yet somehow, under Fiona's stare, he seemed to keep on going.

The ice melted from Fiona's glare. Suddenly, she was interested.