Page 31 of Claimed Highland Brides

Hunter choked on his soup. “I beg yer pardon?”

“Weel, I suppose I cannae be yer first wife. Not as auld as ye are.” Fiona did not know why she was deliberately antagonizing him but she knew it made her feel less powerless. Also, his face turning puce was amusing.

“Tha’...I have no bairns,” he bit out.

Fiona nodded. “Is it because ye’re incapable or⁠—”

“Fiona!” her uncle thundered. “Mind yer manners.”

Fiona pursed her lips, gazing at her uncle from beneath her lashes to hide the lack of apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry uncle. I was just⁠—”

“I dinnae care what ye were just...that isnae how ye speak tae yer husband-tae-be!”

Fiona looked from her uncle to her betrothed and then buried her head in her plate, focusing on the meal. She didn’t say another word throughout supper and once she was done she excused herself. Running to her room, she slammed the door behind her only to begin pacing on her balcony, deep in thought. It did not take long for the door to open, and Julieta to come in, peering curiously at Fiona.

“The servants say that supper dinnae gang sae well frae Laird Hunter.” She grinned at Fiona.

“Whatever do you mean?” Fiona threw her an absentminded glance, still thinking furiously as she paced.

“Weel, according to the upstairs maid, ye were asking some verra uncomfortable questions.”

Fiona shrugged. “All I asked was if he had any weans. He is definitely advanced in age. Ye cannae tell me this is his first marriage.”

Julieta stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the door frame. “According tae what I learned, Laird Hunter hasnae actually been married before.”

That got Fiona to stop pacing if only to gawp at Julieta in surprise. “Really? Why is tha’?”

“Naebody kens, or at least, they’re no tellin’.”

“That is passing strange, is it no?”

“Indeed it is ma’am. What will ye do aboot it?”

Fiona sighed. “Och...I might just have tae ask Mr. Campbell frae help.”

Julieta grinned. “I’m sure it’ll be a hardship.”

Fiona picked up the pillow that was nestled on the stone bench of the balcony and threw it at Julieta. Her lady’s maid caught it deftly with a laugh and proceeded to throw it back.

“Ye ken I’m right,” she said before disappearing back into the room. Fiona snorted, turning her back and leaning against the balustrade.

The entire courtyard was laid out before her and she could see a group of soldiers engaged in some friendly sparring. One of the tall, chestnut-haired, broad-shouldered silhouettes looked familiar and she squinted, leaning further forward to try and see if it was indeed Daividh.

The man lifted his claymore and met his opponent with a loud clash of steel on steel. His lithe figure moved gracefully to parry and block the blows from his opponent. She leaned her elbows on the balustrade, watching him intently. Appreciating the way his movements were as liquid as a dancer, his feet and hands working in concert to place him where he needed to be at any given moment. It was beautiful to watch and Fiona was fascinated.

“Will ye want a bath?”

Julieta’s voice startled her and she jumped, turning to face her lady’s maid.

“Not at the noo.” She shook her head, turning back to face the courtyard. Daividh had completed his session and was now talking and laughing with the man he’d been sparring with. Fiona’s eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to think if she’d seen him laugh so freely, so uproariously before.

She shook her head absently, knowing that she hadn’t. She wanted to see him laugh like that again. Laugh with her like that.

“Will ye stare at him all evening?” Julieta’s voice cut into her thoughts and Fiona turned to glare at her.

“I shall stare for as long as I like.”

“Mmm.” Julieta rolled her eyes, letting go of the doorjamb and turning to head back into the bedchamber. “Weel, I shall leave ye tae it. If ye need me, have the footman fetch me from the kitchens.”