Page 52 of In the Highlander's Bed

Then again, perhaps she did.

And because he wasn’t a coward, because Constance had left him no choice, he went in search of Fiona…if for no other reason than to prove to Constance he was right.

In truth, he did know how to find Fiona. At the edge of the camp he gave a low whistle and listened a moment. In seconds he heard Tad’s bark. Gordon knew that Fiona had befriended the beast. Keeping that friendship between his sister and the dog was usually his reason for leaving Tad in camp during the day.

Tad barked again, and Gordon followed the sound. He found Fiona and the dog at a place the clan called the Cliffs. It was an outcropping of rock overlooking the loch. The children likedjumping into the water here when the weather was warmer. Fiona had her arms around Tad’s neck, hiding from him behind some bushes.

He stopped, a plate in each hand.

The days were shorter now and the dusky light gave them both some protection—and yet, he could tell she’d been crying. She’d cried all the time when she first joined the clan. He had hoped she would grow better.

“I brought supper—” he started.

“I’m not hungry.”

Fiona rose as if embarrassed to be caught hiding and gazed across the loch at some point only she could see. Tad settled down with a happy sigh. He had his two favorite people in the world here, and his tail wagged in anticipation that one of those plates was for him.

Annoyance rose in Gordon’s throat like bile. “How am I expected to talk to someone who refuses to grant me even the most common courtesies?” he asked, speaking his frustration aloud. “I’m your brother, Fiona. We are the only family either of us has left.”

Fiona didn’t move an eyelash. “You don’t need to talk to me at all.”

Usually, this was where he stomped off. This time, because he knew Constance would be waiting, he stayed. “That’s what wehavebeendoing, Fee. Not talking. Has it made anything better?”

“Nothingwill make anything better!” Fiona snapped, her eyes angry and hard. “This isn’t where I want to be. I once hadeverything. It’s all gone, Gordon. Because ofyou, it’s all gone.”

He’d heard this accusation before. “Not everything is gone, Fee. We still have ourselves. We have our family name.”

“Our family name is linked to a rebellion that is doomed to failure,” she informed him without hesitation. “The doors that were once open to us are closed. Worse, we have no money. Oh, wait, there is the price on your head. What is the bounty now, Gordon? Fifty pounds?”

“About that,” he answered tightly.

“Fifty pounds wouldn’t have paid for one of my dresses when father was alive.”

“I tried to see you safe,” he insisted. “The money I gave Sir Dougal should have covered a closet full of dresses and a dowry fit for a princess. I gave you all that I had, Fee.”

“Except what you needed to plan your ‘war,’” she answered.

“I’m not the one who stole the money, Fiona. I believed Laird McKenna was a good man.”

Her gaze, full of recriminations, slid away from his. No matter what, he knew she wouldblame him, and perhaps she should. He stood, holding two plates of cold food, a pitiful offering to replace what she’d lost.

Constance was right. He and Fiona had avoided this conversation for too long. He knew what was wrong. He knew he had to press. He set the plates of food down on one of the rocks.

“I’m sorry, Fee.” The words hurt to say. “I failed you. ’Twas not my intention.”

Tension lined her face. She stood at the edge of the Cliffs, looking as if the wind playing with her hair and skirts could blow her away like a milkweed. He remembered when he would come home from school on holiday and she’d be waiting, a chubby toddler expecting him to give her piggyback rides and taking her for walks to the stables to feed her pony…just the two of them. And then he’d gone on and she, too, had grown up and found other pursuits, until here they were—strangers.

“I didn’t believe you were in danger or that the English would go so far,” he admitted quietly. “I thought you were safe. Sir Dougal—”

The shell around Fiona broke. She whirled on him. “Tad has more courage and honesty than Sir Dougal. That manhandedme over to the English. Gave them the money, anything to save his own family from harm.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Fee. I’ll do what I must. I just don’t want you this way any longer.”

“What way is that, Gordon?” she asked as if she didn’t know.

“You are punishing yourself…and it’s not your fault. It never was.”

“I know it wasn’t.It was yours. You should have taken care of me.” She came stomping toward him with every intention of pushing past, or running away, or any of her usual tricks.