The laird did so, muttering darkly the entire time, and continuing on as Alastair sectioned her hair into three parts. “Isla needs it pulled tight, Alastair.” “I am pulling it tight.” “Tighter. Like a rope, not a drunken caterpillar climbing her head.” “Any more advice,” growled Alastair, “and you’ll be taking a swim in the River Forth.” “Even swimming I could braid better,” said Callum, rolling his eyes.
