Chapter Twenty Two
The morning sun rose cool and bright, alighting upon the keep. He bent low in his saddle, urging his mount faster. Upon entering the baily, he slid to the ground and charged up the stairs of the keep two at a time. He swung open the door to the great hall, spotting Fiona at the high table with Matthew, breaking her fast. When she saw him, her eyes lit up.
“Ye needn’t worry any longer,” he called out as he hastened across the room. “They’ve arrived”
The smile that spread across her face flooded his heart with warmth. There was something innocent and childlike in her joy. She stood, and he took her hand, leading her down from the high dais. They crossed the great room and hastened down the stairs. He knew the moment Fiona spotted her maids, by the squeal that fled her lips.
“Go ahead,” he urged her, releasing her hand.
She lifted her skirts and raced toward the wagon from which Esme and Abby were being helped down. At a distance, he watched their tearful reunion. He wondered how long it would take for Fiona to tell them about the not-so-terrifying Laird of the MacLeod. When her maids looked at him as if he had three heads, he knew she must have broken the news to them.
“Laird MacLeod.”
He turned to see who addressed him. It was Alasdair MacDonnell.
Jamie offered his hand in greeting. “Welcome to Castle Làidir, Captain.”
“Thank you,” Alasdair replied. “Ye will be happy to know the trip was uneventful.” Then his eyes narrowed on Jamie. “How does our lady fare?”
Jamie was not looking forward to telling the elder MacDonnell about their hasty marriage. “Ye can ask her yerself,” Jamie said, motioning to Fiona who was walking toward them.
Alasdair’s eyes widened when he turned and saw his lady. “Lady Fiona, ye’re looking well…surprisingly well.”
Fiona’s gaze darted to Jamie before she turned back to Alasdair. “I am well. Even more so now that ye’ve arrived. How was my father when ye left him?”
“Anxious for ye, but busy with preparations for battle.”
Jamie reached down and took Fiona’s hand. “If ye would like the use of my scribe, he will compose a letter on yer behalf, which I will send out with a messenger on the morrow.”
“I thank ye, my laird,” Fiona answered. “I would like that very much, but I do not need to bother yer scribe. I can write the letter myself.”
Jamie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ye can read and write?”
“I can do sums as well, my laird.”
He smiled down at her. “I am a lucky man, indeed.” He grazed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Streaks of violet shone throughout her black hair. Her blue eyes were bright and warm. Joy radiated from her being and filled his heart nigh to bursting. He looked up then. He and Fiona had captured everyone’s attention. He had to chuckle at the astonished expressions on their visitors’ faces.
“Come, my dear,” he said, guiding her back toward the keep. “Let us show yer kinsmen inside so that they may eat and rest a while.”
Fiona smiled up at him. “That is if they can get over their surprise,” she said with a wink.
He laughed. “I still haven’t gotten over mine.”
She swatted him playfully, before weaving her arm through his.
A short while later, the trencher tables in the hall were filled. Jamie gazed out at the most astonishing sight—MacDonnell clansmen sat among the MacLeod, and everyone was eating and drinking and laughing merrily.
She smiled up at him. “Could we have truly brought peace to our clans?”
“The proof is before our very eyes,” Jamie said, squeezing her hand. “Let us hope ‘tis lasting.”
~ * ~
Fiona scanned the room with a grateful heart. Alasdair spoke quietly with Matthew at the high table while her maids occupied one of the trencher tables near the front. Esme appeared relaxed and engaged with the men and women around her, a mix of MacDonnell warriors and MacLeod clan members. But Abby had eyes for one man only. He sat close to her on the bench. He whispered in her ear, making her blush and giggle. He looked familiar, but Fiona could not remember his name. Then she realized he must be the stable hand Abby had mentioned the day the MacKenzie attacked Castle Creagan.
“Are ye all right?” Jamie asked.
She smiled at him. “I am. For a moment, I was concerned about Abby. She seems to be quite taken by the young man next to her. I’m just surprised to see them speaking together so intimately. Esme keeps a close eye on her sister.” Fiona’s smile brightened. “The lad must be a saint to have won Esme’s approval.”
“Esme appears to have gained the attention of a young man as well,” Jamie said, pointedly.
Fiona shifted her gaze. Sure enough, Esme was speaking with a handsome MacLeod clansman.
Jamie leaned close. “His name is Sebastian. He is the son of a cottar and a fine warrior.”
Fiona could hardly sit still. “I do hope his interest is more than just friendly. Esme is twenty and fears she will never marry.”
Jamie seemed to consider the couple. “Sebastian is the right age and a good man. I believe he would make her a fine husband.”
Fiona smiled. She would be overjoyed to see her dear friend happily matched. She sucked in a sharp breath and turned, grabbing her husband’s forearm. “We should match the unmarried MacDonnells to the unmarried MacLeods.”
He chuckled. “That is certainly one way to ensure lasting peace, at least among our clans,” he added.
His words were an unwelcome but necessary reminder of the greater threat to both clans, a reminder of the reason why she and Jamie married to begin with—Ranulf MacKenzie.
“Where do we stand?” she asked.
“I have sent a messenger to my kin on the Isles of Harris and Raasay. They have agreed to join our number if we made a fortuitous alliance, which we have done,” he said, gesturing to their kin feasting together. “Their ranks combined with ours will make an army mighty enough to stand in front of the MacKenzie with courage in our hearts.”
She squeezed his hand to show her support. “What’s more, right will be on our side, which I know will aid our men.”
He nodded. “Indeed, the man who fights for freedom and to protect his kin, is always stronger than the man fighting for selfish gain.”
She raised her cup. “To our alliance.”
His face softened. “To friendship.”
Her breath quickened. She needed to leap—“To love.”
He leaned close. “To love,” he whispered, and stole her breath with his kiss.