As an eleven-year-old boy, he’d met Jenny the same day he’d met Fergus. After he’d spent the night stranded on a mountain with his cousin Hamish, the old woman had checked him for any ill effects. Since that day, she’d never treated him with particular deference. Now she sent him a reproving glance. “Och, Mr. Diarmid, dinnae ye take away the best pair of hands I’ve had to help me in years. When the job’s done, we can all sleep.”
He’d noticed before that Fiona had a talent for making people like her. It had happened at Invertavey with John and Mags and the rest of his household. He shouldn’t be surprised that it happened here, too.
“I’d like to help, Diarmid,” Fiona said.
“Aye, your lady’s been a marvel. It was lucky ye brought the lassie here. There were a few moments when I couldnae have managed without her.”
His lady? If only Fiona were.
Idle thoughts. His mermaid was only interested in his ability to rescue her daughter. The surprise was that he looked at her now and realized that he’d give his right arm to change that.
Because God help him, when he’d seen his best friend smiling down at his wife and child, the woman who had filled his mind wasn’t Marina, but Fiona.
Chapter 18
“By God, Bruce Mackenzie makes the finest whisky in Scotland,” Diarmid said on a sigh of pleasure, as he leaned back in his usual chair in Fergus’s well-stocked library.
Fergus smiled at him from the other side of the hearth. “Aye. The laddie has a touch for it.”
A comfortable silence fell, broken only by the crackle of flames in the grate. It was late. Fiona and Marina were upstairs with Fergus’s three-day-old daughter, Eilidh. The household slowly began to settle into a new routine after her dramatic arrival.
The doctor had turned up the same afternoon Eilidh was born and had pronounced mother and child to be in perfect health. But while Eilidh might be in perfect health, she was far from a perfect sleeper. Both Fergus and Marina were looking frayed, as they adjusted to life as new parents. Frayed but happy. Diarmid surveyed his friend now and could almost see a golden glow of contentment surrounding him.
Another thing that pleased him was that so far, there had been no sign of the Grants. Achnasheen proved to be the perfect sanctuary. He doubted they’d ever guess where he and Fiona had taken refuge.
The problem, as he’d told Fergus and Marina the night he arrived, was that as long as her kinsmen kept Christina, they knew Fiona must eventually come out of hiding. If this turned into a waiting game, the Grants had all the advantages.
The thought darkened his easy mood. While he and his mermaid lingered in comfort at Achnasheen, a wee girl remained in the clutches of her brutish relatives.
“Recent events have distracted us from your problem,” Fergus said, proving his thoughts moved along similar lines.
“A worthwhile distraction.”
“Aye.” Fergus smiled. His friend had smiled a lot since Eilidh and Marina had emerged unscathed from their ordeal. “I willnae argue with that. But it’s time we decided what to do about the Grants.”
Diarmid sat
up and set his glass on the table at his elbow with a determined gesture. “Fiona and I have to go and get Christina.”
Fiona had suggested several times that they leave, but he’d argued her into waiting until she regained her strength. Her agreement had been reluctant. He sympathized with her impatience, but only today had he believed that at last she was up to traveling across Scotland.
“Aye. But it willnae be easy. The Grants will expect ye to turn up, and they’ll do their best to hold onto the bairn.”
“And to get Fiona back, too. Allan is set on marrying her to his brother, and they’ve already taken a deal of trouble to track her down to Invertavey. They willnae surrender her without a fight.”
Fergus frowned down into his half-full glass. “I’ve been thinking about your dilemma.”
“Aye?”
“Aye.” Fergus looked up. “While ye go and try to get Christina, I’ll head for Edinburgh and see what legal routes are available to restore Fiona’s daughter to her. For a start, under law, she must have some claim to a widow’s portion from Ian’s estate. Ye also mentioned there was a house she inherited.”
“That’s a bonny idea.” Diarmid wanted to kick himself. He’d been so focused on prizing Christina out of the Grants’ clutches, he hadn’t considered bringing the weight of the law against them. Yet he was accounted to be a thoughtful man who considered every angle before he acted. Fiona Grant had him in a spin, for sure.
“Och, I do have the occasional spurt of inspiration,” Fergus said drily. He paused and shot Diarmid a look he didn’t altogether understand. “If it comes to a court case, which it verra well may, telling the court that Fiona has means of her own puts her in a better position to gain custody of Christina.”
“Fiona’s nae longer a penniless runaway. She has powerful supporters. Ye and Marina. Me. Hamish, once I get him involved.”
“Aye, that’s true.”