Two days later Skye was facing her grandfather, she was standing defiantly before the old man who was sitting in a high-backed oak armchair beside the hearth.
“Where did you meet this man?” Lord Brora asked.
“Has that anything to do with it?” Skye questioned.
“Will you or will you not answer my question?” her grandfather stormed.
“You have not answered mine yet,” Skye told him.
The old man snorted.
“The whole thing is preposterous. I think you must have taken leave of your senses.”
“I expected you would say something like that,” Skye said to him. “Whenever the older generation cannot understand the modern outlook, they always say we are mad.”
She spoke coolly, her voice raised a little for her grandfather was slightly deaf,
“But you just cannot marry the son of my keeper,” Lord Br
