Chapter One #2
She gasped.
"Do not act so shocked, sister. You ken I'm indulging you by allowing you to marry Alec Lindsay.
In truth, I needed no alliance with them.
" They lived too far away to be of much benefit to him, and their soldiers were not as highly trained as the MacKerricks.
But he didn't want to make his sister's life miserable by forcing her to marry someone she didn't wish to.
There were several other Highland clans he would've preferred an alliance with, but he and his brother would have to secure those partnerships when they eventually married.
In fact, Dugald was in the midst of trying to decide between two chiefs' daughters…
as he had been for several months. Their fathers had sought Dugald out and he had turned neither down as of yet, though they were growing impatient for his decision.
Both ladies were young and lovely. He could choose either the sweet and demure, dark-haired lass who came with nine hundred acres or the voluptuous, outspoken ginger with ties to one of the most powerful clans in the Highlands.
Either agreement would benefit his clan.
He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him. He didn't know why he didn't just pick one of them.
He never deliberated this long over anything. Was he trying to make Da proud by not coming to a decision too impulsively, or was he waiting for something else—some sign or indication of which woman would be right for him?
"Alec Lindsay is a good man," Mairiana blurted, glaring at him. She had no inkling how spoiled she was.
"How does the rogue treat you?" Dugald asked.
"He is no rogue and he treats me very well, I thank you," she snapped.
"Does he love you?"
"Of course!"
"Has he told you of his feelings?"
"Aye, many times. As if you care."
"Well then, I'm glad to hear it." Indeed he was, for even if things went sour with this situation, hopefully Alec would treat his sister well and still wish to marry her.
Dugald did not want to put his sister in danger but he had to reclaim the dagger somehow.
"How long will the Lindsays stay here in Perth? "
"Two more days. The dowager Lady Lindsay wanted to rest from the travels."
Dugald nodded, knowing the chief's elderly mother would need rest. And no doubt the chief wanted to spend a couple of long nights in a soft bed with his nubile French bride. "Meet me here at the same time tomorrow and let me know what you've learned."
Mairiana scowled. "Very well," she said begrudgingly.
"Try to find out something. You must if you wish to marry Alec Lindsay."
∞∞∞
Camille Bouchard sat in the common room of the White Ram Inn, eating her midday meal, even though it was well past noon.
When the large, commanding Highlander in a belted plaid had strode in earlier, bold as the brass studs in his leather armor, she had almost choked on her roasted lamb.
Sacrebleu! What a striking and gorgeous man he was, with long hair, dark as midnight.
On second glance, she saw that his green eyes were angry as a stormy sea. What had riled him?
Not glancing her way, he sat at a nearby table and was, at present, arguing quietly with a beautiful and well-dressed, dark-haired lady. Camille wondered at their relationship until the man called her "sister." That explained their slight resemblance.
Although Camille could not understand much of what was being said since they were trying to keep their voices low, she found she enjoyed listening to the Highlander's deep, rumbling voice.
Camille's cousin, Angelique Drummagan, Countess of Draughon, had married a Highlander the year before.
After a very rocky start, their passionate marriage had turned into a happy one and they were expecting their first child in a few weeks.
Camille had come to Perth with a couple of servants to shop for the supplies Angelique would need upon the arrival of their new babe.
Camille sent another quick glance toward the brawny Highlander at the other table.
In truth, she could hardly keep her eyes off him.
Short beard stubble darkened and defined his stubborn jawline.
His shoulders were as broad as one of the distant Cairngorms. His proud and confident bearing told her he was someone of importance, perhaps a leader.
A chief? His clothes did not look new or expensive, however.
Mayhap a war leader? Of a certainty, he appeared to be a strong warrior.
She glanced down at his plaid-covered thighs and muscular calves, sprinkled with dark hair. Good heavens, how she loved Highland clothing customs which showed off a man's fine form. Her mouth suddenly going dry, she took a large sip of spiced wine.
The Highlander's sister shoved to her feet, her mouth dropping open. "I cannot believe what a brute you are being about this, Dugald!"
His fist clenched upon the table. "I am most serious and determined in this," he growled.
With a huff, the woman stormed up the stairs.
Parbleu! What had the argument been about?
The Highlander—Dugald—arose and, with angry strides, left the building. Was he truly a brute as his sister had said? Why should Camille care? Oui, she had been searching for a Scotsman of her own for many months, and he was a most attractive man. But she had no need for a brute.