Page 25 of Claimed Highland Brides

They drank in silence for a while.

“But what d’ye think is strange aboot it?”

Daividh lifted an eyebrow.

“Ye said there was something strange aboot the engagement,” Simon clarified.

“Oh, aye. I tried tae speak tae the laird aboot it but he acted as if he was helpless. As if the marriage was oot o’ his hands. D’ye think that Laird Hunter has his foot on the McCormick’s neck?”

Simon leaned forward, looking interested. “Ye think sae? And what can we do tae find oot?”

Daividh sighed. “I dinnae ken.” He smirked. “Listen at doors?”

“We could talk to Hunter’s men. They might ken something.”

Daividh perked up at once. “Aye. We can start there. Guid idea Simon.”

“The question is, what will we do wi’ the knowledge when we have it?”

Daividh glared. “One step at a time, Simon.”

* * *

Fiona had changed into her brown utilitarian gown and gone out into the garden to see if she could help with the gardening. Julieta was in the kitchen, getting acquainted with the other servants and trying to discover the lay of the land. Fiona meant to speak with the other wives and sisters, to try and get a sense of what they thought of the Laird of Glendale, and maybe she might have an idea of how to handle her upcoming nuptials. If she also asked about Daividh Campbell and how he was regarded, that was nobody’s business but hers. She tried to be as discreet as possible but several of the women gave her knowing looks.

“He is savendie, tha’ one. Did he no bring ye safe frae Braenaird?”

“Aye. He did.”

The woman smiled. Fiona knew that she was sister to one of the crofters and she did not like the look of affection she had in her eyes when she spoke of Daividh. She made Fiona want to ask just how well the girl knew him, although she knew it was none of her business.

“Miss Douglass!” She looked up to see the laird of Glendale standing on the edge of the field, glaring at her. “What are ye up tae, doing peasants’ work? Come awa’ frae there at once. No wife o’ mine is gonny work like a serf.”

Fiona stood frozen, feeling embarrassed to have been spoken to in such a way in front of the other women who were undoubtedly the serfs Mr. Hunter was referring to. He lifted his hand and gestured impatiently for her to go to him. “Come the noo, Miss Douglass. What are ye waiting for?”

Someone touched her hand and she looked down to see the woman she’d been speaking to, sympathy in her eyes. She squeezed Fiona’s hand and then removed the small shovel from her hand. “Ye should gang,” she whispered.

Fiona nodded woodenly and jerkily began to make her way to the edge of the field. She felt the burning sensation of eyes upon her and turned her head to see Daividh glaring from the other side of the field, his hand on his sword. She hesitated, staring at him as he stared back.

“Miss Douglass!” Mr Hunter called sharply and she jumped, and resumed walking. She could not help sneaking glances at Daividh, who stood straight and thunderous, like the wrath of God. Her hand was grabbed painfully at the wrist and she made a sound of distress. From her periphery, she saw Daividh start towards them looking as if he wanted to grab her wrist out of Laird Hunter’s hand.

The laird turned, dragging her along behind him, looking annoyed. “Ye must learn yer place young lady. Ye cannae be running wild anymore. No wife o’ mine will behave in such a manner.”

“I am not yet yer wife!” Fiona spat.

He stopped short, so fast that she almost ran into him. He turned to face her, his face hot and red with anger. “I beg yer pardon?”

“I said...I am not yet yer wife. So I will thank ‘e no tae manhandle me.”