Page 8 of Only a Highlander Will Do

Fiona set her cup down so quickly that tea sloshed out. Her gaze connected with Gwendolyn’s, then Rowena’s. “That is what he claims.”

“Is it true?” Rowena asked.

Fiona hesitated a moment before realising she had no reason to hide the truth. These women didn’t appear to want to harm her, and could possibly aid her in her distress. “As of this morning, I was betrothed to Alex MacDonald. Tormod captured me on my way to Monkstadt. His declaration outside was as much a surprise to me as it was to both of you.”

The two MacLeod women shared a glance, but their faces revealed none of their emotions. “Do you care for Alex MacDonald?”

Fiona touched the handle of her teacup but left it where it was. “The marriage was arranged between my father and the MacDonalds. I had no say in the matter,” she confessed. “I would never say this to Tormod, but I am a little relieved to have avoided the MacDonald heir, at least for a little while.”

“Then you want to go through with the marriage to Tormod?” Rowena asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“I did not think I had a choice.”

Again the two women shared a glance. Gwendolyn said, “I’m glad you are here with us if it gives you more time to figure out what will be best for you and your future.”

Fiona frowned. “Isn’t it dangerous for all of you to have me here? When I fail to show up at Monkstadt tonight, the MacDonalds will know something has happened. They could send out a search party, or worse yet a war party, to find me. And when they discover that their enemy has given me refuge, I doubt they will be very understanding.”

“You let the men of this castle worry about that,” Gwendolyn said, offering Fiona more tea.

Instead of offering her cup, Fiona startled. “My father. He will be worried about me.” Or would he?

“We can send word to your father, if it will help you feel more at ease,” Gwendolyn offered.

Fiona clutched her hands as another thought registered. Sending a messenger back to Ulster Castle might also alert the MacDonalds to her current location. She did not want to be the cause of a battle between the already warring Highland clans. She swallowed back her momentary fear. “Might I have some time to consider?”

“Of course,” Gwendolyn said with a smile. “It sounds like you have some important things to contemplate, such as which man you might decide to marry—a MacLeod or a MacDonald.”

A sudden burst of anger beat back the rest of her fear. “Or if I wish to marry at all.”

Both women laughed, the sound more companionable than harsh. “Of course. We did not mean to imply marriage was your only option,” Gwendolyn said. Her humour fading, she leaned forward and placed a hand on Fiona’s. “Please know you have friends here at Dunvegan. Rowena and I have had our own battles when it comes to marriage.”

“You are both married then?” Fiona asked.

Gwendolyn patted her hand before pulling away. “I am married to Alastair. We were engaged five years ago, were separated, then finally found our way to the altar just a few months ago.”

Rowena sighed. “My beloved is currently away.” The young woman’s forlorn expression spoke volumes. “He’s sailing the high seas in search of fortune that will allow us to break free from both the MacDonald and the MacLeod clans.”

Fiona straightened. “You are promised to a MacDonald and your clan is supportive of that?”

“Not at first they weren’t. At first Marcus was seen by my brother Alastair as our enemy,” Rowena said soberly.

Fiona winced as she recognised how much pain lay under the flat, honest words. “But then eventually your brother came around to the idea of the two of you being together?”

“Marcus had to betray his clan for Alastair to change his mind. Even so, we are still apart. My dear Marcus sailed away not too long ago after leaving supplies for Alastair to use to rebuild the roof on the old keep.” She sighed once more. “He left me with the promise to return as quickly as possible so that I might become his bride.”

“Then I hope Marcus returns soon,” Fiona said.

A hint of smile returned to Rowena’s lips. “I pray for that every night.”

Fiona turned her attention back to her abandoned teacup and took several long sips of the remaining refreshment. Now that the shock of Tormod’s announcement belowstairs had worn off, her mind wondered at the possibilities. No matter how much she might deny it if asked, Tormod had done her a great service this day. He had rescued her from an unwanted marriage, even though he intended to force himself into her life in lieu of the MacDonald heir. But perhaps with these two women as advocates, Fiona might yet escape marriage to either man.

*

Tormod fled to the tower rooftop, leaving his brother’s many questions about his intentions towards Fiona Fraser behind. If only he could leave his thoughts behind as well. He had not meant to blurt out his intention to marry her, but Graeme had placed that seed in his thoughts, and now it seemed the only course of action.

The afternoon sun was starting its decline as he stared off into the distance across the open waters of Loch Dunvegan. He drew in the heady scent of the sea air that usually relaxed him, and realised this time the sights and smells of his ancestral home had no effect on his nerves.

For five long years he had been away from Dunvegan, until recently. He’d attended the University of Edinburgh for a time, until the call of war distracted his thoughts. Once classes were complete for the year, he convinced his brother, Orrick, to join him as a sword for hire in the conflict between Britain and Spain in the West Indies. The two of them fought for the British for thirteen months, until it felt like the British cause was only to conquer new territories. That was when the two of them switched sides and fought for the Spanish instead, becoming privateers for very different reasons.