Page 126 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Och, aye, I've a bonnie gift for the wedding, alright, lass!"

Laird Douglas swaggered into the room wearing a look of unparalleled evil. Nora felt her back stiffen. Everything about her father gave her fear. All the same, she knew she had to do her bit. Whatever it took to get him to change his mind, she would do. She had decided it. It had to be worth a try.

"Father," murmured Nora, rustling her houppelande and moving over to him. It was risky, but the thought of William spurred her on. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I've been thinking..."

Her father looked at her sharply. "Och, what have I told ye about doing that, lassie? Ye ken, there's nay need for it. I do all the thinking around here."

He grinned, displaying his raggedy teeth. Nora paused. Then, he laughed out loud. Again, she hesitated. It was hard to tell with her father what was a joke and what was not.

"Well, I was thinking," she continued, looking around quickly. It was a breezy day in early April. The Highlands were alive with flying petals from errant trees. Everywhere she looked, some facet of nature was in full bloom; the daffodils, the heather, the blossom trees. Everything was so vital and alive. The thoughts of what she had to do seemed even grimmer than ever.

Now her father gave her his undivided attention. "What?" he said bluntly. "What were ye thinking, wee hen?"

Completely intimidated, Nora just blurted it out. But she could not meet her father in the eyes.

"That there may be another way through all this," she said diplomatically. She felt her father's hot gaze upon her. Before he could say anything, she continued. "An' that maybe we can work things out between the clans wi'out recourse…to the plan."

Even so, she could not bring herself to utter the word murder. It curdled inside her throat and choked her there. But it had nothing on her father.

"Ye what?" he said again. Nora looked him in the eye and saw there was no chance. Worse still, in that look, she betrayed everything.

In cold fury, the laird paced the room, his usually florid face turning snow-white. This was a bad sign. Nora almost stopped breathing outright.

"Och, I dinnae believe it. Ye're in love wi' him. Ye silly wee puterelle!"

Finally, he exploded. Getting in her face, he lifted her right up against the wall. Unable to breathe, Nora squealed, but he squashed her mouth.

Incandescent, her father almost spat. "It's true, isnae it? Ye've fallen for him. Ye gods!"

Nora could not move; in fact, she could barely speak. It was all she could do not to collapse onto the floor when he let go of her. Disgusted, the laird stepped over her, his face a maelstrom of rage.

"Ye do, dinnae ye?" he growled.

Nora was powerless to deny it. Dropping her eyes, she simply said, "Aye⁠—"

But before the word was properly out of her mouth, her father grabbed her again. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her face.

"Now ye listen to me, wee hen. There isnae gonnae be any peace in the clans. The only peace we get is o'er William Duncan's dead body, an' that is...literally!"

Horrified, Nora felt her stomach turning. There was nothing she could do to get her father away from her. The only way through this was to nod limply.

But he did not give her time to fashion a reply. While Nora was still working out how to get her breath back, Laird Douglas was appraising her.

"Och, 'tis just as well I came here to give ye yer wee wedding present," he said, a strange grin curling the corners of his mouth. Heart beating, Nora wondered what on earth he meant.

She did not have to wait long. Out of his sheath, he pulled a long dagger. Putting it into her hand, he fixed her with a look.

"Take it," he commanded, as Nora swallowed and did as she was told. Lifting the sword, she felt its weight—a long, heavy sgian-dubh with silver braiding.

"What is… Is this the McIver clan's?" In puzzlement, Nora inspected the sword.

"Exactly," said her father, pleased. "'Tis the bandit clan. Ye stab him wi' this an' drop it, an' everyone thinks it's the brigands who did it."

"Och," said Nora, despondent. Her father had thought of everything. Everything apart from how she felt. Although she knew he did not care.

Taking the sgian-dubh, Nora tried it out for size. Lifting it high, she practiced her aim and poise. But all the time, she wished she had it in her to throw it down. Even just touching the sharp-bladed weapon made her feel a little sick.

Fear curdling her heart, Nora looked at her father. She was scared of him, it was true. But she was far more afraid of hurting William.