Page 8 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

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"The laird o' Greenock?" said Aileen, pretending to screw up her eyes as if she could not remember him. "Och, I'm nae sure I ken him. Can ye remind us please, Sister?"

Aileen nudged Lissie from behind Fiona, and then both of them started giggling. The three of them were in the great hall, where preparations for the feast were underway.

Lips pursed together, Fiona rolled her eyes. She turned to her two younger sisters. Lissie and Aileen were scurrying around, darting in and out of the half-laid tables.

"If ye’re going tae stay, then ye can make yerselves useful," said Fiona, walking up and down between the tables and checking everything was in order.

Outside, a full orange sunset razed into the room, the August skies exploding in a haze of color. It would be some time before it was dark, but not long before the hall was full of revelers.

Anxiously, Fiona put the finishing touches to the tables. Shifting a silver candelabra from table to table, Fiona glanced at the girls.

"Here, help me," she said to her sisters. Smiling, Aileen came to assist her. Taking the candelabra, she glanced slyly at Fiona.

"So, the laird o' Greenock," she said, her blue eyes flitting slyly between Fiona and little sister Lissie, sniggering from behind. "Are ye going tae ask him tae dance wi' ye...?"

At fourteen, Aileen was growing into a beautiful young woman, but when she was with Lissie, she reverted back to a child of about four.

"Again," added Lissie, her light eyes dancing from behind. Clever, serious Lissie could still act like a prize scamp when she felt like it.

Fiona blushed and pushed past Aileen, red burning in her usually delicate cheeks. Behind her, Grace rolled her eyes.

"Och, so ye remember who he is then, Aileen?" Grace asked, with a supportive glance to Fiona. But Fiona had her head down, deep in concentration. Suddenly, she was very busy rearranging the dressings on the table.

"I was just hoping tae jog Fiona's memory," said Aileen, her blue eyes flashing with mischief, but Fiona did not meet her gaze.

"Except there's no need tae do that," remarked Lissie from the back. All of them turned to look at her, the little maid's eyes sparkling with amusement. "Because she remembers very well who he is!"

Grace's eyes shimmered as she looked at Fiona, repeatedly arranging and rearranging the goblets and the flowers on the main table without looking.

"Right, I think it's ready," was all that Fiona said, muttering beneath her breath. Then she looked up just in time to see the old counselor McTavish—or was it McTaggart?—coming slowly into the chamber.

"Ladies," he said, solemnly ushering in a procession from outside the door. "May I present the Laird o' Greenock..."

Behind her, Lissie and Aileen shared a glance, but this time they did not snigger.

"Sir, the Maid o' Duncan," said the old counselor, with just a trace of an edge in his voice. He had smartened up a little for the occasion, but his hair still resembled a bird's nest. He smiled at Fiona, but she knew what he meant. She wasn't to get ideas above her station.

In walked the laird. Fiona had to confess that her eyes were stuck to him the entire time. The first thing she noticed about him was his shiny black hair, falling softly over his shoulders. And the next, his dancing green eyes. And they were fixed right on her.

"Och," he said, looking a little surprised. He glanced at the ancient counselor, who faced him with a brittle grin. "The maid, I wasnae expecting..."

Laird Greenock's voice trailed off as Fiona's eyes went from his to Grace, looking avidly over at the pair of them. Instinctively, Fiona blushed under the weight of all their stares.

One by one, the room was filling up with the guests. This was to be a feast of lavish proportions and looking at it, it felt as if at least half of the clan would be present.

"I was expecting the lady," said the laird of Greenock, then he brought himself up sharp, aware of having said the wrong thing. Unsurely, he looked at Fiona. "I didnae mean that..."

His eyes hovered over to Grace, a little uncertainly. Fiona felt herself melting. But she was also totally unsure what to say. Still, one year into being the acting lady of the clan, and she still did not know how to handle these situations. Confusion about her status did not help matters much.

Seeing her confusion, Grace came to Fiona's side. Assuredly, she smiled at the Greenock laird.

"Fiona is the maid o' the clan, an' our acting leader," she said, clarifying the situation immediately. Behind her, the elderly counselor coughed importantly.

"She is nae the lady," he said, as if he had not already made it crystal clear.

Fiona banished any traces of irritation from her face and forced herself to smile.