Page 53 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

Fiona's eyes arched upward. This was not what Clyde had said.

"Aye," said Fraser, answering for Clyde. The men behind him took another pace forward. Suddenly, Fiona felt surrounded. "But unfortunately, he is no longer laird."

Clyde looked up, an indeterminate look on his face. "Fraser, ye have had yer fun, noo get oot o' our way," he said. Emboldened, he took a step forward.

Fraser shook his head. "Och, Clyde, ye shouldnae have done that," tutted Fraser.

The wind, which had remained silent, suddenly picked up, rustling around the glen with a whistle. From the darkened skies, the first spots of rain appeared. But neither of them noticed; both Fiona and Clyde's eyes were hard on Fraser.

"Give me the jewels, Fraser," said Clyde, his voice low and tense.

Fiona looked at him abruptly. Inside, she was on fire. These were her treasures, hers and her clan's alone. How dare they treat her like this!

"Like I said, Cousin, they are nae yers tae give." Fraser beamed. Fiona longed to scratch the smirk from his face more than anything right then. "An' ye are nae the laird anymore because I have given the gold tae Laird Anderson already."

"Fraser, I—" began Clyde, but Fraser dismissed him. With a look to the men behind him, Fraser beckoned them on.

"Guards, take them!" Fraser commanded, the ever-present smirk falling from his face.

Fiona tensed in panic. Beside her, Clyde squeezed her hand hard. Giving her a tug, he grabbed her suddenly.

"Go," he hissed in a low voice. The men advancing were still a short way off. There was still time.

Before Fraser could act, he pushed her forward, helping her through the tangled undergrowth of the glen. Her heart beating hard, Fiona grabbed Clyde's hand.

Hot thoughts tumbled through Fiona's heart. She was desperate, confused, uncertain. But there was not any time for that now. The platoon of guards was drawing nearer.

Fraser stepped toward them with a knife.

In an instant, everything had gone wrong. Now the thick raindrops were falling on them and their attempt to run away. Breathlessly, Fiona hitched up her skirts and ran, her hand entwined with Clyde's. Looking up at him, she saw his face, red and angry, but his large green eyes were contrite.

"Follow me, lassie," he said softly. "I will nae let ye down again, I promise."

With no choice, Fiona followed. But she was furious.

He had betrayed her.

But right then, he was her only hope.