Page 70 of Claimed Highland Brides

Jamesina’s smile turned wistful. “I think I shall miss them, though. Who’ll wake me in the morn by climbing on my face?”

“I think Ùna would be happy tae do it,” Fiona replied, grinning widely before leaning closer. “I think she misses being the youngest.”

All three of them laughed as harmony was restored. After some discussion, it was decided that they would leave three days hence.

“Also, the other girls dinnae have tae ken wha’s afoot. It will just worry them for nothing,” Jamesina said.

Daividh looked grim. “Aye, but we shall travel wi’ armed men. They’re bound tae wonder why.”

“We shall simply say that ye’re o’erprotective o’ us. They can understand tha’. They havenae forgotten wha’ happened tae Fiona either.”

Daividh nodded. “Aye alrigh’. I shall trust yer judgment.”

* * *

Delwyn arrived in the town of Drumacree in the middle of the solstice festival. He decided that it was a good place to stop and dig for information both on the mines and Neacel Hunter. His journey had so far been uneventful. He had managed to get supplies and headed into the Highlands without being accosted by highwaymen or eaten by wild animals. He’d made sure to report to the local English garrison whenever he was near one if only to see if they had some news on his quarry.

What he’d learned was that Scotsmen were not inclined to share their thoughts with Englishmen and while the soldiers were able to confirm to him that he was moving in the right direction to take him to the mines, they had not much to report on Neacel Hunter or Clan Douglass.

“I hear tell that Munro Douglass left the mine to his five daughters after his death. The new laird of Braenaird Keep is a Daividh Campbell, who runs the mines on behalf of his wife and her sisters,” the head of the garrison at Fort Worth had informed him. “If you’re going in search of a fortune, I’ve got to tell you, there are easier ways than trying to wrangle a Scottish lass for a wife.”

He’d grinned as if that was the greatest joke ever spoken and Delwyn gave him an uncomfortable smile in return. He had been aware that this would not be easy. He had, however, hoped that he would have more to go on by now than, “Scots are a stubborn nuisance. You’d best keep away from the lot of them.”

He walked among the citizens of Drumacree, buying a pigeon pie to munch on as he tried to decide how to proceed. As far as he could reckon, Braenaird Keep was less than a day’s ride on a fast horse from Drumacree, which made it likely that some of its inhabitants were present at the fair. If he could strike up a conversation with one of them, he might wrangle himself an invitation and thus, a means to find out more about the mines and Neacel’s whereabouts.

I don’t know if I can marry one of these people.

He looked at the women around him, recoiling from the roughly hewn woolen arisaids, the rough hands, lack of bonnets, or any attempt made to protect their skin from the sun. They were nothing like Englishwomen. They had none of the delicacy or daintiness of the English rose. How was he to reconcile himself to living with such a woman?

I cannot even take her back to London. How would she fit in? She would have no concept of civilization.

He snorted to himself and headed towards the nearest inn. He would need somewhere to stay while he was in the town. He was watching a pair of jugglers as he walked and so was startled to bump into someone. His hand shot out to stop them toppling over and he was shocked to find himself staring into a pair of large dark eyes.

“Delwyn. Ye’ve come at last,” the woman said. She was small in stature but with a large head of untidy pitch-black hair and matching eyes.

He was quite sure he’d never seen her before in his life.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, letting go of her and stepping back as if she had the black plague.

She smiled. “Apologies. I am Aifric. I dinnae mean tae scare ye.”

Delwyn drew himself up to his full height, which was quite a bit taller than the woman. “I am not afraid.” He stared into the mysterious woman’s eyes. There was something there, as if she could see into him, through him. As if she knew all about him.

“Indeed.” Her tone was very dry.

Delwyn’s eyes widened. It was as if she had heard what he had been thinking!

She patted him on the arm and then walked away. “The inn ye’re looking for is the other way,” she called in parting.

Delwyn’s mouth fell open as he watched the mysterious woman named Aifric disappear around a corner.

* * *

Jamesina straightened her gown before opening the door to the room she was sharing with Fenella, Maisie, and Ùna. The twins were already downstairs in the taproom, no doubt causing trouble while Ùna was asleep. Aileen had elected to stay at home with Fiona and the twins.

“Bring me a red ribbon and a bolt of cloth and I shall be happy as a dove,” she’d said to Jamesina.

Jamesina crossed the corridor of the Inn to knock on Daividh’s door and waited while he shuffled about inside. Soon, the door was pulled open and he peered out at her, his sark untucked in his breeches and his feet bare.