Page 14 of Claimed Highland Brides

The other laird wagged a finger in his face. “Ye dinnae want to ken what will happen if’n they don’t.”

Donnchadh nodded, turning away. Although he put on a brave face, he was just as perturbed at the delay as his companion. He had given the warrior three days because it took a day and a half on a fast horse to ride to Braenaird Keep and back. He had reckoned that traveling with a woman might take longer, but still, he had afforded them twice the required time to return.

So where are you?

He shuffled back to his chambers, Padraig’s words still ringing in the back of his mind. He did not trust that the other laird would keep his secret even if he got his wish and married Fiona. He just did not seem to be the kind of man not to hold such a piece of information over Donnchadh’s head until the day he died.

He tried to think about how he could resolve this problem with the most minimal of casualties but he kept being tripped up by the fact that if he was to do that, the only solution would be to confess to his transgressions himself. Much as he hated to face this fact about himself, Donnchadh had to admit to cowardly feelings at the thought of standing in front of Murdo Douglass’s daughters and confessing to them...

No. I can’t do it.

He got to his feet and headed determinedly to his study. He wrote a note and handed it to one of his footmen. “Have a rider set out at once, on the fastest horse we have. I want a reply by tomorrow. This is imperative.” He added a glare to emphasize how serious he was.

The footman nodded. “Aye, sir. It shall be done.” He snatched the note and hurried off towards the stables where several messengers were waiting, horses groomed, fed, and watered, ready to ride at a moment’s notice.

The footman skidded to a stop. “Anndrais! I have an urgent note frae ye.”

A diminutive man with straw-colored hair turned, his inquisitive green eyes trained on the footman. “Where to?”

“Braenaird Castle. Ye’re tae gang after Campbell an’ find oot wha’s keeping him.” The footman held out the note to Anndrais, whose eyebrows were raised all the way up to his hairline.

“How d’ye ken wha’ the note says?”

The footman shrugged. “The McCormick’s been expectin’ Campbell’s return all day. Then he sends ye to Braenaird? It isnae difficult tae guess.”

Anndrais reached for the note, tucked it in his belt, and mounted his horse. “Aye then, I’m gang.” He spurred the horse and took off at a good speed. The footman watched until Anndrais had disappeared around the bend before he returned to report to Laird McCormick that the message was on its way.

Donnchadh nodded with relief. “Excellent. Alert me as soon as ye’ve got a reply.”

“Aye, sir.”

Donnchadh spent the rest of his day dodging Padraig. He knew that sooner or later he would have to answer to the other laird, but the truth was that he had none and so would avoid confronting that reality for as long as he could.

Instead, he was assailed by memories of how exactly he had gotten to this point. He had met Murdo Douglass when they were both thirteen years old. Even though they were cousins by marriage, they had never had the occasion to meet before. That year, they spent time with Donnchadh’s father, participating in raiding parties, sowing their wild oats, and learning about the role they would both have to take up in the future: that of laird.

Murdo was a fast learner and tended to show Donnchadh up. He did not mind though, because Murdo was good about sharing his spoils. It almost made him not want to come out on top at any time because then he might have to contemplate sharing with his cousin or looking like a selfish donkey’s arse.

Murdo was a force of nature and he had decided that Donnchadh would be his particular friend. The laird choked as he recalled a strange conversation they’d had the day before Murdo was scheduled to go back home to Braenaird Keep.

It was raining quite heavily and they were in the loft of the barn, lounging about in the hay, both feeling rather sad at the impending departure.

“I suppose our fathers will expect us tae wed now, eh?” Donnchadh had said sadly. He did not really like the lassies all that much but marriage was what came next once one became a man.

“I expect sae,” Murdo said thoughtfully. “Although I wager I am nae ready frae tha’. I want to go off to university first.”

Donnchadh sat up and stared down at his friend. “University? D’ye want tae gang tae England or across the Channel?”

“Across the Channel. I heard that French lassies are nae sae innocent as Scottish ones.”

Donnchadh laughed. “Ah, sae ye havenae finished sowing yer wild oats then?”

Donnchadh shrugged nonchalantly. “Mebbe they willnae be sae wild. Mebbe I will come back wi’ a French bride.”

“Ohh, so ye dinnae want a Scottish lassie for yer bride? What will yer da say tae that?”

Murdo laughed. “He isnae the one who will choose frae me, so I suppose he’ll say nothing.”

Donnchadh sighed. “My faither awready has a lassie frae me. We are tae wed once she turns sixteen.”