Page 6 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

Wedding.

It didn't matter how much he tried to forget it; it was there.

There was little left here for him to sell, and he was running out of options to raise the gold for his clan's defense.

"I see," said Clyde, his hands running over his face.

There was only one solution he could see. Staring across the bare chamber, his mind went back to Laird Anderson. At the time, he had rejected his offer. It had been against his better judgment that he had gone to see the tricky laird in the first place. Clyde had already had dealings with that clan—namely Jonet, Anderson's daughter—and did not want more.

Clyde grimaced, squashing the wooden quaich tightly between his hand. If it hadn't been for that wench, he might not be in such dire straits.

"Och, an' this came for ye," said Patterson, unfurling a parchment, which he produced from beneath his cloak.

Taking the letter, Clyde scanned it quickly. Before he got to the bottom of it, Patterson summarized.

"I think it's an offer o' coin. Perhaps ye should take it, sir."

Glancing through it, Clyde saw that it was, but when he got to the bottom of the letter, he stopped abruptly.

"Nay," he said sharply, screwing up the letter into a tight ball. Bristling, Clyde cast the letter down. Inside, all the blood had rushed to his head.

Patterson raised his head unsurely. He didn't even need to say anything; just the angle of his eyebrow said it all. Clyde knew what he was thinking but suddenly didn't care.

"Nay, we dinnae need anything from him," said Clyde stiffly.

Patterson looked at him like he was mad but said nothing. Scooping the letter up off the floor, he straightened it out.

"But sir, Fraser said..." began the servant before thinking the better of it.

The look on Clyde's face was fierce.

"I ken what he said," said Clyde, getting to his feet. "But the answer's no. Aye, I ken he's got a big purse o' coin, but he can't buy us, no. An' anyway, there's another solution."

Clyde was looking for his riding brat; wordlessly, Patterson brought it to him. Clyde took the heavy plaid cape and fastened it on.

"Is there...?" Patterson asked, his aged eyes widening. "Where are ye going, sir?"

Clyde turned to him.

"Where I should have gone in the first place. Tae the Duncan clan!"

"Fiona, have ye thought about it?"

It was early the next day. A golden sun was beginning to rise over all the Duncan lands, casting its rays brightly across the castle.

Fiona loved this burst of early morning sun and was often to be found basking in its light in the castle gardens. Today she was more than usually busy, gathering blooms from the plot for the ensuing feast.

Before her, Grace stood, inquisitive and bold, watching her as she worked. Fiona looked up, the summer sun igniting her dark locks with a streak of honey gold.

"I've thought about it, an' the answer's no," said Fiona softly, before getting back to her work. She was tending the gardens and digging at something in the soil.

Beside her, Grace pouted. "But Fiona, it's the simple answer!" she said, frustrated.

Fiona shook her head. "Nothing simple about getting wed, Grace, ye should ken that!"

Here, the two looked at each other, Fiona maybe a little enviously. She smiled shyly.

"Except, och, ye’re a bad example, I suppose, as ye’re both so disgustingly in love!" she conceded, and the pair of them laughed.