Page 2 of Claimed Highland Brides

Mrs. Dougal smiled fondly as she continued to knead her dough, watery grey eyes far away. “Aye. Little Fiona Douglass was a little firebrand when she was a lassie. I dinnae reckon they managed tae beat it oot o’ her.”

“So she’s likely tae gi’ me trouble?”

Mrs. Dougal shrugged. “I dinnae ken. Havenae seen her in a few years. Not since the auld laird fell ill.”

“Hmmm.” Daividh slurped his parritch thoughtfully, filing away the information in case it became necessary.

* * *

“Are ye sure aboot this lad? He willnae fail ye?” Pàdraig Dàibhidh Hunter, Laird of Cumlochan, asked his friend, Laird of Dunavar.

Donnchadh nodded slowly. “He has proven himself time and again to be reliable. I havenae any doubt he will deliver. ”

“Guid. Because ’tis important that we are wed before news of Laird Braenaird’s death spreads. Ye ken the urgency as weel as I do.”

“Aye, I do. That is why I chose Campbell. I gave him three days he will be here in the beginning of the third. I am sure of it.”

“Aye weel...I hope ye’re right aboot this. I dinnae want tae think of the consequences if ye’re not.”

“Neither do I. I wouldnae ha’ chosen him if I wasnae sure. So ye can stop worrying. Have some uisge and wait.”

Laird Cumlochan sighed as he moved to the drinks tray and poured himself a large glass of whisky. He lifted his glass to Laird Dunavar. “Slainte.”

Laird Dunavar nodded back then turned away from his friend before letting his brow furrow with worry. He could not help but worry. There was a lot riding on the success of this venture. This girl was too valuable. That is why he needed a warrior.