Who is This Man?
Shona and Jeannie hurried to the courtyard, each helping the other fix a wayward curl here and there. They straightened plaids and smoothed wrinkles from frocks. Kendric hobbled out and perched on his crutches, refusing the chair Donald fetched. A group of clan elders gathered behind them as they watched Ewan ride in. Shona was mightily relieved to see her husband’s smile and surmised the boy on his lap was the nephew he’d spoken of so fondly.
The stern-faced greybeard with the eagle-feathered bonnet could only be Duncan, the notoriously bad-tempered Mackinloch laird—her father-by-marriage.
“I’m glad I didna take a sip o’ whisky,” Shona whispered to her aunt as the new arrivals dismounted. “I get the feeling even Ewan is intimidated by his father.”
“Weel, he looks happy to see his kin. I’ll wager the lanky fellow beside the old man is his brother.”
“Perhaps the smile is because it seems they havna come to usurp Creag.”
Moira, Heather and Robbie hurried to greet David and Walter.
Jeannie squeezed Shona’s arm when Fynn rode through the gates. “There’s my lovely husband,” she murmured.
She put an arm around her aunt’s shoulder. “Here we are, Auntie, two brides who havna had much chance to share the happiness of being newly wed.”
“Right enough, but we will,” Jeannie replied.
Shona had an urge to laugh when her aunt attempted a wink, but her amusement fled when she added, “though o’ course some things are just between a mon and his wife.”
Jeannie had misunderstood. Shona certainly had no intention of gossiping about the intimacies she and Ewan had shared. Nor did she wish to hear of what had transpired in her aunt’s marriage bed. A retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she felt the heat rise in her face and quickly closed her mouth when she realized her husband and his father were striding towards her.
*
Ewan let go of Andrew’s hand for a moment and proceeded to introduce his father to Kendric first as protocol demanded.
“My son told me of yer injuries,” Duncan said, shaking the former laird’s hand, “but ye seem to be on the mend. My condolences on the death of yer brother. Fine mon. We shook hands and shared a wee dram at Clunes. We exchanged swords to seal the contract. I thought ye might like to have yer brother’s blade back. As a remembrance. ’Tis in the baggage.”
Ewan held his breath. He couldn’t recall ever being acknowledged as the man’s son before and the thoughtful gesture brought a lump to his throat. He knew what it would mean to Shona.
“I thank ye,” Kendric replied, looking gobsmacked by the news, “and ’tis thanks to The Camron the perpetrators of the foul deeds that have recently befallen us are dead.”
Ewan had only made brief mention of the accident during the short ride, but he was astonished at his father’s jovial and considerate manner.
“I brought my eldest son wi’ me,” Duncan continued, seemingly content to wait for an explanation. He beckoned Colin forward. “He’ll be The Mackinloch after me. Few men can boast of two sons who are lairds of great clans.”
As Kendric shook Colin’s hand, Ewan wondered about the identity of the good-natured fellow claiming to be his cantankerous father.
Duncan put both hands on his grandson’s shoulders. “And this young man is my daughter’s bairn, Andrew.”
Andrew dutifully shook Kendric’s hand but quickly looked up at Ewan. “Is that yer bride?” he whispered, nodding to Shona.
Ewan looked at the lass he loved. Her uncharacteristic fidgeting tugged at his heart. She was anxious for his father’s approval, something he’d thirsted for many times in his life, but never received. He was confident his wife would win the old man over in short order.
“Ye’ll wait yer turn, Andrew,” Duncan blustered, reaching for Shona’s hand.
“Father, may I present my wife, Lady Shona Mackinloch.”
Ewan was aware his sire had attended the court of King Charles on more than one occasion, but was completely unprepared for the courtly kiss Duncan brushed across Shona’s knuckles.
If the gesture came as a surprise, she hid it well as she bobbed a curtsey. Folk tended to wilt under The Mackinloch’s gaze, but her gesture was polite without being subservient.
Well done, lass.
More incredible was that Duncan didn’t seem offended. “My son has chosen well, Lady Shona,” he gushed, still holding her hand.
This wasn’t the moment to mention the marriage was actually Duncan’s doing, and he certainly didn’t want his father to know about his efforts to avoid it—at least not until he’d had a few tumblers of whisky.
Andrew tugged at his plaid. “She is bonnie,” he whispered. “Can I kiss her hand too?”
“Of course ye can,” Shona replied, beaming a broad smile as she extricated her hand from Duncan’s grip and offered it to the lad.
Andrew executed a bow worthy of any courtier and kissed Shona’s knuckles. “Pleased to meet ye,” he said.
“I ken somebody who’ll be happy to meet ye,” she replied, beckoning Robbie from the curious crowd gathering in the courtyard.
Ewan watched the two boys shake hands and shyly embark on a conversation. If a lad from a MacCarron sept and a Mackinloch could be friends…perhaps therein was the solution to finally laying the feud to rest. He put his arm around Shona’s waist as the introductions and pleasantries continued, feeling more confident about the future than he’d ever felt.
“A good beginning,” his wife whispered.
“Aye,” he agreed.