tresses cascaded from its holdings to her shoulders. Fiona smiled at something another woman whispered to her.
The brunette at Fiona’s side was dressed in pale blue with a braided golden string weaved through her hair and shiny jewels at her throat and ear lobes. Alasdair could not look away.
Breathtakingly beautiful was how he’d describe the brunette, who he now realized was Dallis. Her lips were curved at the corners as her gaze moved across the people. She nodded at a few and accepted a flower from a child who rushed to her on unsteady feet. When she noticed him, their gazes locked, and her smile widened.
Several people followed her line of vision and looked to him. Alasdair pretended not to notice, but it proved impossible not to keep his eyes on her as she made her way toward the tent.
Not only was Dallis the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, but she’d also been his. Alasdair instantly recalled the feeling of her in his arms. In those moments of intimacy, his visions had faded. With her in his bed, he was like any other man, lost in the woman with nothing between them..
And now, as she walked alongside the others, he immediately rushed to join Niven. No one would go near her or attempt to persuade her father to give her to him as a wife. Somehow he would have to come up with a way to offer for her.
Niven had alluded to knowing more about him. Was it possible?
“Cousin, I see ye decided to join us.” Niven motioned to the table where he and several guards sat along with Cuthbert, who glared at him.
Niven met Alasdair’s gaze. “I heard what happened. We must speak of it.”
“There is something else I wish to speak of as well,” Alasdair replied as maids neared with platters. The conversation would have to wait.
Much to Alasdair’s annoyance, Dallis was kept busy most of the meal, so he didn’t have an opportunity to catch but glimpses of her as she went from group to group. She played the role of laird’s daughter well. Everyone from high born to villagers seemed at ease around her. Her attention remained undivided when speaking to someone and more than once he caught sight of her throwing her head back laughing.
This was her element. The lass was worthy of a laird, someone who could provide and give her the life she’d been born into.
Not a man like him.
That she’d granted him so much liberty was a gift. A one-time amazing experience that would not, should not ever be repeated.
Shouts from the guards atop the wall sounded, announcing an arrival. Alasdair’s stomach tightened with apprehension. Whoever came, they were familiar with who he was. The air turned crisp as tingles traveled up his arms. He motioned to his right with his head to Niven.
Warnings of danger always served him well and saved his life on many occasions. “What happens?” Niven followed him as he moved through the crowd toward the stables. “Who is coming?”
“I do not know. But I must leave immediately.” Alasdair looked toward the keep. “Can ye meet me at the caves with my horse and clothes?”
Niven let out an annoyed breath. “I must accompany my laird to greet whoever comes. It may take me a while.”
“I can wait.”
Alasdair moved deftly through the foliage, not stopping until he was a good distance away and atop a hill. From where he stood, the keep was visible, standing proud with a loch guarding its back while thick stone walls on the other three sides provided security of the front and sides.
It was then the colors of the banners became clear. The Macpherson came along with an entourage of guardsmen and archers.
Alasdair wasn’t sure why he’d felt the urge to leave. That he was aware, he’d never met anyone from clan Macpherson. However, he trusted his instincts.
Whatever the laird came for, it was not a friendly visit. When a strong pulse passed through him, he became aware of reason for hiding.
The Macpherson brought a seer with him. Not a strong one as the man had not sensed Alasdair’s presence.
Interesting that the man felt the need to keep a man with the sight with him. Obviously fear of attack or someone seeking to kill him.
In the distance, a large contingent of warriors appeared. By their tartan, they were Clan Robertson. The new protectors and allies of Clan Sinclair. Good, they were ensuring the Macpherson became aware. Although by his presence, he already knew.
Obviously