Page 12 of The Icy Highlander's Bride
Laird MacCrawford's face flashed in her mind, the same face that had haunted her throughout her sleepless night.
I expect to be married in a week.
A week. It was all the time she had before her life would change forever and her dreams of a love marriage would disappear. Lana felt the kitten squirm in her arms, its little claws kneading into her arm. She loosened her grip and let the kitten down, giving a joyless smile as the little thing pawed at stalks of hay that taunted it. The kitten faced off against the offending item before jumping into the air to flatten the hay to the ground.
Good for ye, little one.
The kitten's ferocity stirred something inside of Lana. She saw how small the animal was, but it still attacked the world with curiosity and determination. Lana used to be like that. She used to say exactly what she wanted, no matter the consequences. She never used to sit back and let life happen to her.
She stood up quickly, brushing the errant pieces of hay from her skirts as the kittens mewed up at her.
"I cannae stay," Lana told them, embracing the determination that surged through her body.
She clenched her hands at her sides and breathed deeply, preparing herself. She ran a hand over her hair, checking that she was presentable. She looked down at the kittens and their mother, who was lying on her side, seemingly pleased that the kittens were no longer feeding from her.
"I must go," Lana murmured, locking eyes with the mother cat as if she were a close confidante. "I have a wedding to stop."
6
"Is that what this is about?" Cameron asked, circling Daniel as he loaded his saddlebags for a ride. "Are ye looking for a maither for Skye?"
"The girl needs someone," Daniel told him. "And I cannae have nannies running off every few years to care for sick aunts. This is the best solution."
"It was one nanny." Cameron laughed. "Look how many years Silvers has lived here!"
"I've made up me mind," Daniel declared, mounting his horse and leaving a perplexed Cameron staring up at him. "I daenae need yer opinion."
With that, he kicked his heels into his horse's flanks and felt the familiar jolt as the beast burst forward. He kept his eye on hishorse's mane as he rode away from his castle and his confused brother.
He felt the familiar excitement as he pushed his horse faster, bringing her to a speed that was rarely needed except on the battlefield. But Daniel missed the fast pace and quick decisions that war required, so when he knew the road was clear, he sometimes allowed himself this luxury. He knew his mare, Clava, enjoyed these times too.
No matter how many years of peace passed, Daniel couldn't shake the fear that war was on his doorstep. Despite positive reports on all the neighboring villages and clans, he still forced himself to be prepared for whatever would arrive. He needed to protect his people at all costs.
It was why he still trained most mornings, thrashing his sword against straw men as he weaved Clava in and around bales of hay his men arranged for him. He didn't feel right unless his muscles ached and his breaths came fast before he sat down for breakfast.
As Daniel rode, he remembered his conversation a few weeks ago, when his daughter's nanny told him she was leaving.
"I must ask yer permission to leave, Me Laird," Daniel remembered the young nanny saying, her eyes trained on the floor.
He could have sworn she was shaking as she stood in front of him, her voice thin and terrified.
"Leave?" he had roared, making the lass jump in front of him. He remembered clenching his hands into fists and telling himself to calm down.
"It's me aunt. She's sick, Me Laird. And there's nay one else to care for her."
For four years, this woman had cared for his child, dressing her and feeding her. There were days at a time when Daniel didn't see Skye, but he always comforted himself knowing she was well cared for. Hearing that the nanny wanted to leave made an unfamiliar panic well in chest.
"Go for a visit," Daniel told her, making it sound like an order instead of a suggestion. "And come back when she's well."
"I daenae think she will get well, Me Laird," the nanny said, shaking her head.
Daniel felt uncomfortable when her voice broke. He wondered if she was on the verge of tears.
"Then come back when she is dead."
In retrospect, Daniel was too harsh with the woman. He should have sat her down and comforted her, perhaps sent a healer back to the village to look after her aunt. But he was too busy running through all the things that would go wrong when she left. For a man who raced into battle without fear, he was uncharacteristically terrified to be alone with his daughter.
"I'm leaving, Me Laird," the nanny stated.
