"Who are ye?" the laird demanded, refusing to be intimidated by the old woman, especially in front of his clansmen, although he would wager that many were cowed by her.

"I am Flora Hay, the housekeeper here at Hay Tower. Whatever it is ye want, we don't have it!"

"How do ye know what I want?" the laird said, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He was curious as to who, or what, the old dragon was protecting as she stood so defiantly barring his way.

"I don't know what ye want," Flora told him, "but whatever it is, 'tis not here, my lord. As ye can surely see, there is little here of any value." She curtsied and attempted to close the door on him.

Angus Gordon swiftly placed his booted foot in the door, preventing her. " 'Tis a fine herd of cattle ye have in yon field," he said.

Flora nodded. "Aye."

"And just where did ye get such fine cattle?" he asked her.

"Get? We didn't get the cattle, my lord. We raised them. They are all we have, and are to be used to dower two of my young mistresses," Flora told him, looking straight at Angus Gordon without so much as a blink.

"These lasses are Dugald Hay's get?"

"Aye."

"And how many lasses did that devil's spawn beget?" the laird demanded.

"Flora! Flora! For shame! Don't keep the laird of Loch Brae standing on the doorstep. Ask him into the hall for a cup of cider." A young female had appeared behind the housekeeper. She was tall for a girl, and almost too slender. She wore a simple wool gown, dark in color, and draped across her chest was the red and green Hay plaid, which was fastened to her shoulder with a rather fine silver brooch. "I am Fiona Hay, my lord, the eldest child of Dugald Hay and his wife, Muire," she said quietly.