"Brother," Ewan hissed, grabbing Connor’s arm."Not here.Not in front of everyone."
But Connor was already striding toward the door, his face like granite."Where?"he demanded of Horas.
"The corridor outside the guest chambers.Laird Finnigan is...he's asking for ye both."
Connor and Ewan followed Horas through the halls of the keep, leaving behind a buzz of shocked conversation and speculation.Their boots rang against the stone floors as they made their way to the guest wing, where they found Laird Finnigan pacing the corridor like a man possessed.
The older man's face was haggard with worry and embarrassment, his usually composed demeanor cracked.When he saw the MacNeil brothers approaching, he stopped his frantic pacing and straightened, though his hands remained clenched at his sides.
"Laird Finnigan," Connor said, his voice dangerously quiet."I believe ye have something to tell me about my bride."
Laird Finnigan's jaw worked for a moment before he found his voice."She's...missing.Fiona went for a walk yesterday afternoon and hasn't returned."
"A walk?"Connor's voice rose dangerously."On the day before her wedding?"
"Her women said she needed fresh air," Finnigan explained, his words tumbling out in a rush."She'd been in her chambers all day with preparations, felt faint.They thought nothing of it when she said she'd return within the hour."His hands clenched tighter."When she missed the evening meal, they assumed she was...avoiding company.Didn't want to cause a scandal by raising alarm."
"And ye didn't think to tell me before now?"Connor's voice was deadly quiet.
"Horas and my men were out searching last night and again this morn," Finnigan continued desperately."But the mist came down thick as wool.They couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.”
"We searched everywhere and there’s no sign of her.I should have escorted her myself yesterday, but I was running errands for Laird Finnigan and Fiona must have slipped past my attention," Horas said while clenching his jaw.
For some reason, Connor did not like the way Horas said Fiona’s name.It felt too personal, too intimate."It is ‘Miss Fiona’ to ye," he snapped, and received a scowl from Horas in return.
"It seems impossible for the wedding to go ahead now," Horas replied.
Connor glanced at Horas again.He noted they were the same age except where he had more bulk, Horas had height.He’d gleaned a little about the man who was guardsman to the Finnigan laird and close friend of Fiona’s.Something akin to a feeling of jealousy burned its way into his veins.What if they were lovers?What if they were more than friends?She was to be his wife and no one else’s!
Connor stood perfectly still for a long moment, then erupted like a volcano.He roared, "No bride of mine is going to shirk her duties!There will be a wedding or there’ll be hell to pay.Ready my horse!"The last was bellowed at a nearby stable boy, who scrambled away in a hurry.
"Connor, the mist," Ewan began.
"I dinnae care if it's thick as gruel!"Connor snarled, already striding toward the stairs."She's out there somewhere, and I'll find her stubborn bahookie if I have to search every tree and rock in the whole of Alpa!And lord help her if she ever tries to run from me again."
Soon after, Connor was mounted on his black stallion, having changed into riding clothes and strapped on his broadsword.The mist swirled around him like ghostly fingers as he urged his horse toward the forest, following what little he could see of the paths.He refused to have Horas or any men accompany him.He alone knew the terrain and forest better than any, they would just hinder his progress.
For two hours Connor searched, calling Fiona’s name into the oppressive fog, following deer trails and hunter's paths.His anger sustained him through the frustration of near-blindness, the constant threat of his horse stumbling, the way every tree and rock looked identical in the gray soup that surrounded him.
It was past midday when he spotted the thin curl of smoke rising through the mist and red fire burning from the hearth within.Following it led him past a Rowan tree and then further down to a small stone bothy tucked into a grove of ancient oaks.Funny, that in all his years, he had never seen the bothy before.He wondered if perhaps he had entered into a different realm.Then shook-off the eerie thought.
Light flickered through the single window, and Connor dismounted, his heart hammering with a mixture of relief and renewed fury.
He shouldered through the wooden door without ceremony.
Fiona spun around from where she knelt by the fire, her face lighting up with relief.She was wrapped in a rough blanket, her hair in a simple braid, looking nothing like the bride who should have been standing beside him hours ago.
"Connor!Thank heaven ye've found me!"She jumped to her feet, the blanket slipping slightly."I'm so sorry, I got lost in the mist and—"
"Sorry?"Connor's roar cut her off like a blade."Sorry?Do ye ken what ye've done, ye selfish, weak-willed lass?"He advanced on her, his face dark with rage."The entire keep is in chaos!Yer father is beside himself.Our clans are wondering if this marriage is cursed before it's even begun!"
Fiona flinched and stepped back, her relief quickly transforming into shock."I can explain—"
He stalked toward her and growled, "Explain what?That ye're so spoiled and pampered ye couldn’t face yer duty?That ye care so little for yer clan that ye'd rather hide in the woods than honor the agreement that could bring peace?"His voice rose with each word."I should have kenned better than to expect courage from a woman who—"
"Enough!"Fiona's voice cracked like a whip, cutting through his tirade.Her green eyes blazed with fury as she stepped forward, no longer cowering."How dare ye!How dare ye accuse me of shirking my duty when I've done nothing but accept this cursed marriage with dignity!"
Connor's mouth snapped shut in surprise.
