Lachlan was less than patient while waiting admittance to the McLean keep. He and the three men who accompanied him were quite weary from the days of travel to the McLean keep.

Finally the thick wooden gates inched open allowing them to enter the sizeable courtyard. The laird hurried out from inside, the stout man's face ruddy from the exertion.

With a slight bow, Lachlan greeted the McLean. "Laird, I am Lachlan McDougall, here in my brother's stead to be proxy to the handfast with Lady Claire and escort her back to McDougall lands."

The laird's sharp eyes snapped over him and then each of his men. "Aye, of course, come...come inside and seek refreshment."

They followed the man, who moved with surprising speed, into a large room where they settled at a long polished wooden table. The room was quite large, as the clan was much larger than the McDougalls. On every wall tapestries decorated and brought warmth. On opposite walls, immense hearths boasted fires that added additional heat. Lachlan spotted at least ten maids moving between long rows of tables serving the men and woman seated. They interrupted the evening meal it seemed.

McLean lifted his hands clapping above his head and several maids came forward to see to their needs.

The smell of the freshly baked breads made Lachlan's mouth water. Trays piled high with meats and root vegetables were brought into the room and placed before them. Steaming bowls of a hearty stew followed the laden trays. His stomach grumbled in delight.

"Eat, fill your bellies," the McLean told them picking up a large slab of meat and placing it onto his plate. "Your Da? How fares he?" he asked Lachlan, a concerned expression on his face.

He hoped to return and find his father still alive. "Father is not well. He worsened just as my brother was to come."

"Ah." The man shook his head. "He is a good man, your Da."

Not wishing to think too much about his father, Lachlan looked to the doorway where a comely serving wench watched him with interest. Perhaps after filling his stomach and bathing, he'd seek her out.

"Me daughter is packing, I am not sure she will join us for the meal tonight," the laird informed him. "She will be a good wife to Ian, I'm sure. Although Claire is a bit of an energetic lass, I'm afraid."

The picture of the fiery sprite kicking Ian and running away came to mind and Lachlan pressed his lips together to keep from commenting. His brother would have his hands full with that one. Although a beauty, Claire McLean would be hard to tame, she was not meant to be a laird's wife. But it wasn't his decision, so Lachlan refrained from bringing that fact up and continued eating.

His duty was to fetch the lass and bring her back to McDougall keep. Whether or not he thought it a good or bad idea did not matter. For now he was content to be warm and well fed.

The light of a full moon was enough for Lachlan to make his way to the stables later that night. His legs were heavy from exhaustion and the hearty meal did not help him move with much ease. Once he checked on his horse, a warm bed would be most welcome. Tonight he'd not seek a wench after all, it was rest he needed more.

The smell of hey and horses joined with the sounds of the nickering horses as Lachlan walked past the stalls to find his steed. As if sensing his presence the horse nickered and poked his head out to look toward him.

Just then movement caught his eye. He looked to the shadows past the last stall and didn't see anything. Whatever it was hid.

Lachlan went to his horse, ran his hand over the soft fur and fed him a root vegetable he'd gotten from the kitchens. "There now, you get some rest, we'll be back on the road soon enough."

While he tended to his steed, Lachlan kept an eye on the back corner. If it was a wee beast looking for warmth, he'd leave it be. But if it was something that could harm the horses, it was best if he ran it off.

Once again the shadow moved. It was too large of an animal to leave alone with the horses.

With a pitchfork in hand he rounded the corner to see a huddled figure grasping at a cloak in an attempt to hide in the darkness. It would have worked if not for several strands of bright red hair peeking from one side.

"Claire?"

"No!" The figure replied but did not move.

"What are you doing?"

"Go away," she replied and a hand stuck out from the folds of the cloak to wave him away.

"I will not leave until you speak to me."

The lass sprung to her feet and faced him, eyes narrowed. Lachlan stepped back to ensure his shins were protected from a possible kick. He'd seen how hard she'd struck his brother. Ian had limped for a couple days after.

Wild green eyes looked him from head to foot and back up again. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth. Claire stumbled forward still studying him and once again he stepped back. Was the lass mad?

"Are you real?" Claire asked and reached out to poke him in the chest. "Did you come for me?"

"Aye and aye."

"Your hair, ‘tis like spun gold." Hand planted on the middle of his chest, she stood on her toes and peered into his eyes next. "And your eyes, they are dark as the night sky."

Gods, his brother was to be married to an addled woman who made no sense. "What do you speak of, Claire?"

"Did you come for me?" she repeated and a wide smile curved her lips. He could not help but respond to the beauty and grinned in return.

"Aye, we leave on the morrow."

She grabbed his tunic and pulled him forward, her face mere inches from his. "Nay, we cannot wait, they will take me before then. We must leave now."

"I am quite weary. I'm afraid we wouldn't make it very far." Lachlan had to admit he enjoyed the proximity and moved closer, his lips almost touching hers. "I will escort you back inside."

"What is your name?" Claire asked, her breath fanning over his face.

"Lachlan."

"You have come to rescue me, Lachlan." Their lips touched and Lachlan's eyes flew wide. His hands on her shoulders, he attempted to push her away, but she moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck.

His brother's betrothed attempted to pull him into her world of madness. Lachlan broke the kiss and held her away from him. Claire remained with her eyes closed, lips pursed, a flushed coloring about her face. A more fetching picture he could not think of.

"Claire, please open your eyes. We must go inside, come along, you need rest. Tomorrow we leave for McDougall lands."

Her scream startled him so, that he too hollered as well and spun around looking for whatever scared her only to realize she shrieked at him. "You are a McDougall?" She turned and spit at the ground. "But all of you devils are dark in hair color and have blue eyes." She squinted in the darkness at him. "I don't recognize you."

"I was here with my brother before. You may not have noticed me in your haste to attack my brother and flee."

She did not respond, but continued to narrow her eyes. "Who are you really? Are you sure to not be a Fae then?"

Becoming weary of her game, he took her arm and guided her toward the keep. "I am Lachlan McDougall, Ian's younger brother. I resemble our mother who is fair haired."

"Aye, I remember her. She is a nice woman." She paused. "Who has birthed two devils." She turned on her heel and attempted to leave, but he held her by the arm. "Let me go. I am going to run away. No one can force me into this marriage."

Prepared for her kick, he avoided the swift strike when it came. Patience lost, he picked up the thrashing woman and threw her over his shoulder. "I'm too weary to play laird's spoiled daughter with you this night."