The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

“Old men get the pick of the women in Bancavan.”

“Is that why ye ran away?”

She shook her head. “No. I ran away to save my daughter.”

Something tightened in his expression. “Allan said ye had a bairn,” he said slowly. “Is the lassie still at Bancavan?”

“No. They fostered my daughter out to a clansman near Inverness.” She swallowed against a surge of bile. Thinking about Allan’s plans for Christina always made her feel sick. “She’s nine years old. When she’s thirteen, they’ll marry her off to one of her cousins.”

A muscle flickered in Diarmid’s cheek and even across the room, she read his anger. “So she’s fated to go through the same horror ye did.”

He did understand. “Aye.”

“And ye cannae bear that.”

“No. I won’t have it. I won’t.” Her voice shook, as it hadn’t when she described her own trials. The idea of her beloved child becoming nothing but a drudge to the Grants, with no hope of joy or love, made her want to scream.

“So ye ran away to find her.”

“Colin Smi

th was one of the few men on the estate who maintained a shred of humanity. He deserves better than to lie in an unknown grave at Invertavey.”

“I’ll see he gets a fitting memorial. But what were your plans? Ye must have known the dangers you faced. Did ye have any money?”

“Only a few shillings. But I had a wedding ring to sell, and I’m strong and willing to work. I planned to snatch my daughter away, then disappear somewhere. Glasgow. London. America, if I must.”

Diarmid looked troubled. “It’s a flimsy plan, and one sure to lead to trouble. You’re unprotected and defenseless. The world can be cruel to a woman on her own.”

“The world can be cruel to any woman,” she said bleakly.

“At least at Bancavan, ye had a roof over your head. If you’d gone ahead, it’s likely you’d end up selling yourself on the streets to keep body and soul together.”

Disappointment soured her anger. She’d expected his support, not his criticism. “You’re saying I should accept my lot?”

“No, no’ for a minute, but I am saying you should use your brain before ye set out into an uncaring world.”

“I didn’t have any choice. Christina’s whole life was on the line.”

“Christina? Is that your daughter’s name?”

“Aye. It was my mother’s name. Ian didn’t care what I called our child. When she turned out to be a useless girl, and not the lad he wanted, he took no interest in her.”

“How old were ye when you had your baby?”

“Just past sixteen.”

His lips tightened. “By God, it’s like ye were banished back to the Middle Ages.”

“I doubt life has changed much at Bancavan since then. Not in essentials. The Grants never forgot the feud with the Mactavishes, for example.”

“Och, even if they had, this will reawaken it.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” she mumbled, staring down at the worn table. “When the Grants turned up, I was on the verge of leaving Invertavey.”

“And I let them take ye,” he said bitterly.

“Why wouldn’t you? I’d done nothing but lie to you.” Fiona returned to a memory that still seared like acid. “And I stole your money.”