Page 17 of Claimed Highland Brides

Fiona stumbled backward, holding out her hands in surrender. “Nae, nae, please no’ me.” She was still laughing even as she scrambled out of range.

“Will ye behave yersel’?” Julieta demanded, still brandishing the canteen.

“Aye, I will.” Fiona grinned. “Now put the canteen back on th’ horse.”

Julieta marched over to Daividh’s stallion and placed the canteen back in the saddlebag as Daividh and Fiona eyed each other warily. Then Fiona pulled out her white kerchief and waved it. “Truce?”

Daividh laughed, reaching out to grab the kerchief and fold it. “Truce,” he agreed.

As they resumed their journey, Fiona and Daividh rode side by side. He regaled her with stories of his travels as a sellsword, as she listened, rapt.

“Once I worked for one o’ the Fraser lads. He was determined tae make a name frae himself among his many brothers. He had us out raiding the northern Campbells, who were my kin. I had tae cover up my face in case they kenned me.” Daividh shook his head ruefully.

“Did ye have tae raid them? Could ye no have declined?”

“Ach! What kind of sellsword would I have been if’n I refused tae fight? Scotland isnae that big. Sooner or later, I was gang tae go up against a body I kenned.” He shrugged. “At least my family dinnae like them much.” He grinned at her and she returned it, though she was shaking her head in disbelief.

“And does my uncle have ye gang on many raids?”

“Och nae. All he has me doing is fetching wayward nieces.”

Fiona snorted.