She had seen the lilies in a pond amid the odd, conical hills as she left the glen that night and had stopped long enough to cut a few and put them into her bag.
"The faery glen on Trotternish?" Alastair MacLeod asked. When she nodded, he said, "You're a brave lass. Ye weren't afraid to go there?"
"If I'd seen a faery - or a MacLeod - I might have been," she said with a smile. "'Tis a wondrous, magical place."
* * *
Connor's conversation with Moira put him in a foul mood, and the prospect of the discussion he was about to have with the MacIain chieftain made it worse.
"Your chieftain is expecting me," Connor told the men guarding the door to his host's private chamber and waited while one of them went inside to announce him.
"Just the man I want to see!" The MacIain greeted Connor and slapped him on the back. The man made Connor's skin crawl, but personal feelings had no place in this.
Connor had thought it through very carefully and concluded that an alliance with MacIain would be advantageous to his clan in every regard. In addition to MacIain's warriors, fleet of galleys, and marriage tie to the Campbells, MacIain's close relationship with the Crown would be useful. Connor hoped that, once he took possession of Trotternish, MacIain could persuade the Crown to grant him the royal charter as well.
"I thought I was to meet your granddaughter," Connor said, glancing about the room, which was devoid of females.
"And you shall." The MacIain signaled for Connor to sit at the table. "I wanted to discuss all the important matters first."
Connor had hoped to meet the lass before this went much further. Although his personal feelings did not count for much, he would be seeing this woman at his table morning, noon, and night for the rest of his life. It felt like a death sentence.
"My granddaughter doesn't take after me in looks, if that's your concern," MacIain said with a gruff laugh.
God, I hope not. MacIain had pockmarked skin, bulging fish eyes, and bow legs.
"She's looking forward to meeting you as well," MacIain said as he poured whiskey into the two cups on the table. "When I asked her which of our guests I should choose for her husband, she pointed at you, and said, 'I want that handsome, black-haired MacDonald chieftain.'"
Tearlag's words rang in Connor's ears. The lass will choose you. Surely, this was a sign.
"Fond as I am of my granddaughter, I'd never let her decide such an important matter, of course," MacIain said. "However, her choice coincides with mine. She was born three months after my son's death and has spent far too many years in the Lowlands with her mother's clan for my liking. I want to see her wed to a strong Highlander."
Connor sipped his whiskey. The lass's Lowlander upbringing made him uneasy. "It's a hard life for a lass unaccustomed to it."
"Ach, she has the heart of a MacIain," he said, which Connor did not find reassuring.
"What do you hope to gain from this alliance," Connor asked, "other than a man who will be good to your granddaughter?" No matter MacIain's affection for his granddaughter, or pretense of it, they both knew that was secondary.
"I'll expect ye to respond to my call to arms, should I need ye at some future time," MacIain said.
Connor's pledge would require him to honor the call, no matter what the cause might be. As he had told Ilysa, this was the unavoidable cost of recovering his clan's lands and protecting his people. He hoped to hell that when MacIain called on him it was for a fight that did not turn his stomach.
He and the MacIain went back and forth on the bride's tochar, or dowry, and other terms until they reached agreement.
"Can I have the pleasure of meeting your granddaughter now?" Connor asked. He had made it clear earlier that he would not sign a marriage contract until he met the bride. Now that the terms were settled, however, it would be awkward to extricate himself.
"Sadly, she fell ill last night," the MacIain said. "She's a hardy lass, but I fear she'll be unable to leave her bed for a few days."
The timing of her illness was suspicious, to say the least. Connor could not remain here much longer, and MacIain damned well knew it. Was there something wrong with the lass that MacIain did not want Connor