Page 81 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
Stepping forward Davina took Dùghall’s hand in hers.
“Faither, I wish ye tae meet me braither-in-law, Maxwell MacNeil, War Chief of Clan MacNeil, and his lady, Aileen MacNeil.”
She turned to Maxwell and Aileen who were standing frozen, looks of astonishment on both their faces.
“Maxwell and Aileen, I would like ye tae meet me faither. The Laird Dùghall MacKinnon of Pabhay.”
Maxwell, overcoming his surprise and smiling broadly, stepped forward and proffered his hand to shake Dùghall’s.
“This is a sudden pleasure,” he said. “We’ve been searching fer ye fer some time.”
“And I’ve been searching too.” Dùghall said, with a small laugh. “And now I have found me daughter and discovered a new family here at Kiessimul, the Clan MacNeil.”
Everard brought forward more chairs and they all sat, Maxwell eager to hear how Dùghall had found his way to the castle.
Davina sat quietly, absorbing the pleasure of being in the company of her father. The more he spoke the more she recognized herself in his mannerisms and his way of catching himself when he was about to say something that may be too blunt, and reshaping the words to be softer.
But he had no soft words when it came to speaking of Murchadh MacKinnon, his distant kin. “I wouldnae spare the man if he came within me reach. His crimes against Davina and her mother are heinous.”
“He is beyond the reach of the law,” Everard said, cursing under his breath. Davina was well aware that he shared Dùghall’s sentiments where Murchadh was concerned.
They ate and drank, exchanging stories, well into the afternoon, until Maxwell raised a hand. “I fear I must withdraw from this pleasant meeting.” He turned to Everard. “If there’s time while Laird Dùghall is with ye, mayhap the three of ye could pay us a visit.”
Aileen and Everard also rose. “I am tae take me braither and sister across tae Castlebay as their wee boat is up on the slipway fer some small repairs.” He looked to Davina. “I will be gone only a short time. I hope ye will enjoy spending more time wi’ yer faither.”
She laughed. Hearing the word “father” flowing so readily from Everard’s tongue. She was almost becoming used to the idea that this tall, dignified and good-natured man was herrealfather. Despite all the sadness that had gone before, it warmed her heart to know that her mother had been adored and never forgotten, as for years it had greatly saddened her to believe that her mother had only known the cruelty of Murchadh.
“I am happy tae spend the rest of the day in the company of me faither. It is a rare pleasure, but one that I hope tae repeat often.”
Once the three had left the solar, Dùghall, leaned back in his chair, a contented smile lighting up his face. “Well, me sweet daughter, I wish tae hear of what pleases and displeases ye, and how it was that ye came tae Kiessimul and fell in love.”
Davina began her tale with her misery at the Priory and her daring escape. But before she’d progressed far with the story, the door to the solar was unceremoniously flung open and one of the younger maids stood there, eyes wide, her features twisted in an anxious smile.
“Forgive me fer intruding me lady.”
Davina looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion. “Excuse me,” she said to her father as she rose and hurried across to the door, her heart sinking. It was unusual for a maid to intrude like that, so something must be urgent. Her thoughts immediately rushed to Everard. Mayhap he’d met with an accident on his way back from Castlebay.
“What is it lass?”
The maid could hardly get the words out for stammering and clearing her throat, but finally they emerged.
“It’s yer wee cat, Feather.”
At first, relief flooded Davina. It was not Everard, nor was it Aileen or Maxwell. It was Feather. Then her heart jolted. “What has happened?”
“Ailis said tae tell ye she’s gone missing. At first Ailis thought she’d gone tae yer cottage, looking fer ye. But we’ve searched and she’s nay there. Mayhap she will come taeyercall.” She curtsied and scurried off down the passage before Davina had a chance to ask any further questions.
She couldn’t bear to think of poor wee Feather alone in the dark. She turned to Dùghall seated in the chair by the fire with his dram. “Dinnae fash. I’ll be gone a short time. I’m sure me kitty will come when she hears me calling.”
He rose to his feet. “D’ye wish me tae come wi’ ye?”
“Nay, stay here. Keep warm and finish yer dram. I’ll return in a trice.”
Not bothering to fling on her cloak she hurried out. Lifting her skirts, she scampered down the corridor her only thoughts on finding Feather, fearful that something bad may have happenedto her. She’d heard of owls swooping and taking wee animals like her. She groaned aloud at the thought, urging her legs to move faster.
It was dark in the courtyard and she cursed herself for not having stopped to light a torch, yet if Feather was anywhere near, she would surely come to the sound of Davina’s voice. Calling “Feather, puss, puss,” she circled the gardens. Stopping to listen in case there was an answering meow. Hearing nothing, she pressed on.
Surely Feather would not have strayed as far as the gate?
