Page 46 of Claimed Highland Brides

COMING TO A HEAD

Fiona slipped into Jamesina’s room, her cloak already on, and Julieta trailing sleepily behind her. It was barely four o’clock in the morning. The night was still dark but Fiona had calculated that if they rode hell for leather, on fast horses, they could make it to Dumacree and back in a day and a night. She just needed for Jamesina to cover for her.

“Have ye lost yer mind? What will I tell Uncle Donnchadh if’n he comes looking for ye?”

“Tell him I am indisposed. Unable to emerge from my chambers. Tell him Julieta is tending tae me. ’Tis just a day and then I will have some answers.”

Jamesina sighed, shaking her head. “Gang wi’ God then. Ye ken I shall protect ye.”

Fiona hugged her sister tight before slipping out of the room again, Julieta on her heels. They snuck into the stable, clearly hearing the stable boy snoring away in one of the stalls. If they woke him up, that would be the end of this adventure. Julieta crept to the hooks and took two saddles, creeping out with them as Fiona led two horses out of their stalls. Luckily, the horses were quite amenable to this very early morning excursion and aside from snuffling and sniffing at Fiona’s pockets in search of apples, they made no sound.

As Julieta saddled the horses, Fiona dug into her pockets for the apples she had there and fed them to keep them still. Then they were riding like the wind, cloaks billowing behind them, for Dumacree.

* * *

Daividh rattled his chains, unable to stop trying to get free. He had not been told why he had been thrown in the dungeon but he was no fool and he could guess. He was less upset about his fate than he was about the implication that the McCormick did not intend to stop the wedding.

Surely he has to see how dangerous Hunter is. Is he such a coward that he would rather condemn his niece to her fate rather than stand up for her?

Daividh shook his head in despair, unable to believe that. He knew that the laird cared for his nieces. He had seen it when he watched them, and how he spoke to them. But he must have cared for their father too and yet he withdrew the man’s guards. Of course, he could not have predicted that the man would be set upon. That was his only saving grace.

But wait? Perhaps that’s it! Perhaps he could have known and that is why he…

Daividh stiffened at the thought, unable to finish it even in his head. If the laird was capable of allowing his kin to walk into danger once, he was quite capable of doing it again. Daividh did not know where the thought had come from but he tried to bury it in the furthest reaches of his mind. It would do him no good to dwell on what were essentially imaginings.

A shadow darkened the doorway to his cell and he looked up to see Simon staring frantically at him.

“Brother! What gives? Why are ye in here?”

Daividh blinked slowly at his friend. “Ye need tae gang. Keep an eye on th’ lassie. Help her if’n she asks.”

Simon shook the bars on the door. “What d’ye mean by tha’? Tell me what has happened.”

“I am as much in the dark as ye. The McCormick’s personal guard came to my hoose and took me, brought me here.”

“Because ye went off wi’...?”

Daividh shook his head. “No. I think ’tis because I confronted the laird on what he means to do. I suppose he dinnae like to be challenged.”

“Th’ men willnae stand frae it.”

Daividh snorted. “Th’ men are sellswords. They’ll do as they’re told.”

“If’n tha’ was true, he wouldnae ha’ had to send his personal guard to take ye in the dead o’ th’ night.”

Daividh shrugged and then smiled. “Aye weel. Gang on then wi’ ye. Dinnae be fashit. I think he only means to keep me here until the wedding is done.”

Simon stared at him in disbelief. “And ye have nae problem wi’ tha’?”

Daividh turned to him, narrowing his eyes in irritation as he shook his shackled hands at his friend. “I dinnae have a choice the noo, do I?”

“Och, I suppose not.” He sighed, shaking his head before turning to leave. “I shallnae let this rest here ye ken?”

“Aye. Just dinnae get yersel’ thrown in here beside me.”

* * *

Padraig startled awake, with a feeling that a goose had walked over his grave. He got up and dressed himself, deciding to patrol the castle. Padraig did not have the Sight but he had learned a long time ago to pay attention to all his senses, and they were certainly tingling this morning. He strode quietly down the halls towards the north wing, watching the servants as they walked about, carrying hot jars of water for their guests to bathe with, and returning with chamber pots to cleanout. Footmen stood at corners, always at attention, and ready to run errands should they be required. Everything seemed normal.