Page 66 of Claimed Highland Brides

THE HIGHLAND DILEMMA

Daividh Campbell, the laird of Braenaird Keep and husband of Fiona, stomped into the castle, brushing the mud off his feet as he made discontented noises. It was raining quite heavily and he was soaked through.

“Da! Da!” The musical sounds of his children’s voices had him smiling even as his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He braced himself as two identical green-eyed, auburn-haired children leaped at him with no care for his state of dishabille. He caught them with a laugh, whirling them around. The commotion they made brought their mother wandering over, a wide smile on her face.

“Ye’re back,” she said softly, her own green eyes shining with pleasure.

“Aye.”

“And how did it go?”

He shook his head. “I spoke wi’ the foreman and a few other workers. So far they’re keeping their silence on the origin of the stramash but I have my suspicions.”

“Ye dinnae think…”

Daividh just blinked at her. “Aye, I do.”

“But...he’s dead. The laird is dead. Why would they still…?”

Daividh sighed. “Laird Hunter filled their heads wi’ visions of rivers of gold flowing freely to every man who helped him win ye. D’ye think they would just gi’ that notion up because their master is deid?”

Fiona flinched slightly much to Daividh’s regret. He hated bringing up her erstwhile betrothed if only because of the bad memories he evoked. “Ye mean because I killed him.”

“Ye were saving my life and I’m grateful. The question is, what shall we do aboot his mercenaries the noo?”

“We mun’ find them. Perhaps hold them tae trial?”

“For what? They havenae broken the law...yet. Aye, weel…it has been two weeks wi’out any incident. Mayhap they have given up.”

Fiona made a skeptical sound even as Jamesina came into view.

“Oh, ye’re back. How did it go?” she asked.

Daividh smiled. “Gather all the sisters together. Let me wash up and then I’ll tell ye.” He handed the twins over, Aidan to Fiona and Rorie to Jamesina.

They went off side by side as the twins chattered to each other and he shook his head and smiled fondly until they were out of sight. Then the smile dropped from his face and he sobered, thinking about the other things he had heard. The Douglass mines were under the supervision of Munro Douglass’s five daughters, and four of them were still unmarried. Officially all mines in Scotland belonged to the Royal Family of England but the local families that supervised them gained so much wealth from them that it would make little difference if they actually owned them. So when their uncle and Daividh’s former employer, Laird McCormick, had sought to make a match between Fiona and Laird Hunter, he was not solely motivated by self-interest!

The existence of the goldmines as dowry was like game meat left out in the open; an invitation for every wolf in the vicinity to come and fight over it. Two men of doubtful pedigree had already approached him with bribes and threats. He recognized one of them as one of Laird Hunter’s former tacksmen. Daividh had always had a touch of the Sight and what it was telling him was that trouble was coming.

Perhaps I should consult Aifric about this.

The fortune-teller at Drumacree had predicted quite a few things in their lives, including the birth of his twins. He had faith in her Sight. But he was unsure if she always wanted to reveal the truth. If she confirmed that she too, felt so much as a tingle, he would know to tighten his guard even more. Now that he was the laird of Braenaird Keep, the sisters were his responsibility and he meant to see them all safely wed to good men and not scoundrels.

Still, he was reluctant to alarm them with his concerns. He would speak with Fiona first and see what she counseled. After all, she had been taking care of her sisters long before he came along.

* * *

“I’m going,” Delwyn announced to the room at large, a small pack on his back. His mother looked up with hopeful eyes.

“To Scotland?” she asked.

Delwyn nodded. “I will get her back, Mother. Don’t you worry.”

Aaren stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing. You know I would go with you if I could?”

Delwyn pursed his lips and nodded. He knew full well where the viscount’s duty lay. “Yes, I know.”

His eyes met his father’s, whose gaze was impassive. “It’s a fool’s errand,” he rasped.