Page 67 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander
Laird Moore sighed. “Ye ken I have nay choice. When Laird MacDunn calls, of course I have to answer.”
Brodrick nodded.
The man was right, of course. With everything that had happened over the past few years, Laird Moore would be quite insane not to heed his call. But again, he tried not to let it show.
“So, ye found her. Yer daughter.”
Brodrick nodded. “That I did.”
“Is the wee bairn all right? Did she suffer any injuries?”
“Nae so many, I am glad to say.”
A charged silence, punctuated only by the growing murmurs all around them, descended between them for a few seconds.
“I ken I’m nae here to ask after yer daughter,” Laird Moore said, his deep voice breaking the silence.
“That ye are nae.”
As the murmurs grew louder, they fell into conversation. They discussed the peace offer, how Murdoch had managed to maintain the truce with the other lairds, and the best course of action. They must have been talking for almost an hour because the heat of the sun began to recede and the air grew a bit cooler.
“Ye’re quite the enigma over at Castle Moore. Nobody dared speak of the madman who tore through villages lookin’ for his daughter,” Laird Moore commented.
“That is all behind me now,” Brodrick admitted. “What I’m lookin’ forward to now is findin’ the bastard who caused all of this in the first place and bringin’ him to justice.”
Laird Moore shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes scanning the hall for the briefest of moments.
“But who would do this?” he asked, his voice clipped. “Who would take a baby and kill a lady?”
Brodrick stared at him as if the question hadn’t also haunted him for years.
“I dinnae ken,” he said. “But I will find them, even if it is the last thing I do on God’s green earth.”
Laird Moore nodded. “I have the feeling that ye’re closer to doin’ it than ye think.”
Brodrick nodded, bracing his hands on the table. “I do as well.”
The cèilidh was all he needed, and this nightmare would be over once and for all.
CHAPTER20
Ava staredat the dress Flora had raised before her.
“What do ye think?” she asked, her eyes wide with anticipation, as if whatever Ava said would determine whether the dress needed to stay or go.
They were in Flora’s room, chatting excitedly about the chèilidh and what Flora had prepared for the people coming from far and wide to celebrate Margaret.
Margaret herself sat on Flora’s bed, throwing stones into the air and catching them.
Ava continued to examine the dress in quiet wonder. It was a deep blue silk gown with intricate embroidery on the bodice and a rather complex bottom. The intricately designed lace displayed the elegance and luxury spent on the dress.
Ava wasn’t a dressmaker, but she knew with absolute certainty that making this dress must have cost a substantial amount of time, money, and effort.
“That is the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. My God, it looks exquisite.”
“I sent word to the dressmaker the day ye arrived. If me niece is goin’ to attend a cèilidh in her honor, she must wear something exquisite. And as ye said, exquisite it is.”
Ava’s eyes widened. “This is for Margaret?”
