Page 33 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

"My name's Fiona Duncan, an' I am yer sister."

She believed it right away. The lass's eyes sparkled as she spoke, and to begin with, Grace did not say much. She left it up to Andrew to fill her in.

It was not like her to take a back seat, but his talking allowed her to observe Fiona more closely.

Her sister.

Grace had to pinch herself. But when she stared into the young girl's face, it was not hard to believe. It was like looking back at a mirror—a slightly misty mirror, perhaps. But when Grace looked at her, she saw a younger, slighter version of herself.

Fiona smiled shyly, revealing the same cream complexion and striking cheekbones. But her nose and forehead were different; Fiona's was prone to rippling into a frown, and even just looking, Grace could see she was a serious person.

"H-Hello," said Grace hesitantly. It was not like her to be nervous. But today was overwhelming.

Fiona stood at the entrance to the Duncan castle, an impressive structure that could be seen from several miles away.

"Welcome, Grace. We have been waiting for ye!" said Fiona, showing her in. Glancing at Andrew, she followed along. From somewhere further down in the castle hall, she heard voices. Butterflies prickled at Grace's stomach.

"It's been a long journey. Ye must be exhausted," Fiona said courteously. She smiled briefly, then her face settled into a frown. Grace watched her. She seemed very serious for her young years.

"Ah, I'm alright, thank ye," said Grace politely. "I'm used tae the riding," she added.

Fiona nodded, holding her head down as she walked. She led them through the narrow corridors into the main castle hall.

There, a large group had gathered to welcome them in. If Grace had felt overwhelmed before, then now she was at sea.

"Here he is!" a man said. Grace stared her eyes out on stalks. She had not been expecting so many people. Crammed into the main castle hall were approximately threescore people, cheering hard.

"Andrew Caldwell, the hero o' the clan!" cried another, and the crowd opened up, cheering. Grace smiled at Andrew, who seemed a little taken aback.

Then, the dark-haired lass stepped forward again. "Thank ye, Andrew," she said simply, welcoming Andrew formally in. "The clan is grateful tae ye, as is my father."

There was a pause as a silence grew in the room. Glancing around, Grace could see that the room was set for a feast, but the mention of the laird's name had tempered the mood.

"Aye," said another man. Grace turned to look at him. He had shoulder-length gray hair and what looked like gray eyes. "Yer father's passing cast a long shadow over the clan, an' he will nae be forgotten."

Grace smiled politely but wondered who he was. She didn't have to wait long to find out. The man came forward, offering her his hand.

"Charmed tae meet ye," he said smoothly, taking her hand. Cold prickled up in the back of her, and suddenly a clammy sweat started in the palms of Grace's hands.

Of course, she damped it down. Grace forced herself to smile again. In front of her, the old man smiled, revealing a wizened grin and precious few teeth.

"This is Paton, my father's counselor," said Fiona, with a smile. Then she corrected herself. "Our father's counselor."

Grace did not know what to say to that, so she smiled again. She watched, intrigued, as the crowd lifted up Andrew and promenaded him around the room.

Fiona smiled awkwardly as Grace struggled to make herself heard over the din.

"Hello, Paton!" Grace shouted, but it was to no avail. There was far too much noise. The crowd was wild, jostling Andrew with their cheers. Clearly, he was a man of some standing in this clan.

Finally, the noise died down, and the men settled to their seats. Judging by the tables, they were there for a feast.

Grace, who had not been expecting this, did not know what to do. But taking her hand, Fiona led her to the top table, where the family sat.

Trepidation bit into Grace as she approached the top table. Grace had not been prepared for just how nervous she would feel. Something felt wrong. There she was, a stranger, sitting with the nobles of the clan.

"Grace, I am so pleased tae meet ye!" said a little lass of about ten, politely offering her a hand.

"Thank ye," murmured Grace. "An' ye are?"