Looking directly at her, he declared, “I’ve been a fool.”
Taken off guard, it was her turn to sway, but she couldn’t argue with his assertion.
“I’m told Rory Blair has asked for yer hand.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Aye.”
“Do ye wish to marry him?”
Fiona gritted her teeth. This was too reminiscent of a dozen conversations between them in the past. No matter her feelings for the man in question, she’d always bowed to what she knew her father wanted to hear. Those days were over and done. She couldn’t lie about her love for Rory. “I do.”
“Yet, ye’ve turned him down.”
She stared at the man on the sofa, wondering who he was. “I did. My place is here, at Drummond.” She hesitated before adding, “Shaw will need my help.”
As she anticipated, her father narrowed his eyes, but she didn’t expect him to pat the empty space on the sofa. “Come, sit.”
It was impossible. She’d never be able to sit in the sofa again without thinking of Rory’s last kiss. “I’ll stand,” she replied.
He chuckled. Chuckled! “As ye wish. Stubborn as ever.”
“A trait I inherited,” she shot back.
“True,” he conceded. “However, Shaw willna need yer help, Daughter, because his stubborn sire intends to do what he can to aid the new laird.”
She gaped. “Ye’ve reconciled?”
“He doesna ken it yet, but aye. And if ye think Caitlin Blair canna handle being Lady of Drummond, ye’re mistaken. She’s a spunky lass, that one. Reminds me of ye.”
It was tempting to fall at his feet and babble her relief, but she’d trusted him before. “There’s Gordon and Logan…”
“I havena been a good father to them,” he admitted. “I hope to change that.”
She stared at him, searching his face for insincerity, but saw only sadness and determination. The road to resentment and hatred had become the road to Damascus. Like Saul, Brodie had been miraculously transformed.
“I havena been a good father to ye, either,” he continued. “Ye have my blessing to marry Rory Blair. He’s a fine mon.”
Years of longing for words of paternal love and approval brought her to her knees and she sobbed into his lap as he stroked her hair.
I Have a Dream
Rory woke and sat on the edge of the mattress after a long night of second-guessing himself. There was little point staying at Drummond Castle. He had responsibilities at home. By rights, he should take Caitlin and Nairn with him, though he trusted Shaw, and his sisters would balk at leaving.
Another opportunity to persuade Fiona might present itself if he stayed.
Bathed and dressed, he dithered with his hand on the door knob, no closer to a decision. If Fiona was in the hall breaking her fast, how should he react? It was a mystery how a woman, a feisty one at that, had managed to tie him in knots.
Despite his turmoil, he chuckled, recalling the conversation with her in Stirling’s Knot Garden. Normally a gentleman with women, he’d behaved like an ass, and she’d taunted him. He’d thought their reaction to each other was to be expected of a son and daughter of feuding clans but, in retrospect, perhaps she’d been under his skin from the start.
About to turn the knob, he hesitated again when someone knocked. Frustrated, he yanked open the door, taken aback to see Gordon and Logan Drummond.
“Good morrow, Laird Blair,” Gordon intoned, his expression serious.
“Good morrow,” he replied, unsure of the reason they’d come.
“We trust ye slept weel?” Logan asked.
“Aye,” he lied, seeing no purpose in explaining his troubled sleep to two bairns.
Gordon held out a piece of paper. “We’ve a message for ye.”
He frowned, eyeing the note.
“’Tis from Fiona,” Logan explained.
Rory stared at the missive like a coiled adder. She’d either changed her mind, or the message was to never bother her again. He straightened his shoulders, resigned to his fate, and read the letter.
To Laird Rory Blair, Please attend me in my solar before ye leave. Lady Fiona Drummond.
He scratched his head, unsure what to make of the formally worded invitation. Clearly, she thought he was leaving. Perhaps, her intent was to make sure he never came back. Either way, the decision had been made for him. “Lead on, lads,” he declared.
He strode down the corridor like a condemned prisoner escorted by two miniature guards trying to match his strides. He entered the solar after Gordon tapped lightly and opened the door then closed it, closeting him alone with Fiona. There was no turning back.
He scanned the elegant room for the woman who haunted his dreams, surprised to finally see her perched in the very center of the sofa. A bittersweet memory of their kiss and her reaction to touching him played with his senses, but she obviously didn’t want him sitting next to her on this day. She looked tired and nervous, but not angry.
“Fiona,” he said with a polite bow.
“Rory,” she replied, eyeing him up and down. “Will ye do me a great favor?”
“Of course,” he rasped, confused as to where all this was leading and already aroused by her perusal.
“Since I was a lass, I’ve harbored a foolish dream,” she said softly.
His heart thudded in his ears, nigh on drowning out her words. “Aye?” he prompted, holding his breath. There was no use getting his hopes up to have them dashed again.
“I’ve long dreamed of a handsome, loving mon kneeling at my feet and asking for my hand in marriage.”
He stared at her, his heart in his throat.
She smiled. “I thought my sofa was the perfect place to sit for such a dream to come true.”
He took courage from her blush, went down on one knee and reached for both her hands. He didn’t know the reason she’d apparently changed her mind, but there’d be time enough to discuss that later. “Lady Fiona Drummond, will ye do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
He was completely unprepared for her response. Yelling Aye at the top of her lungs, she launched herself at him. He lost his balance and toppled over, laughing when she landed on top of him, raining kisses on his face.
He pulled her close and captured her mouth, kissing her hungrily. “Minx,” he declared, elated when their tongues swirled in a mating dance.
When the need to breathe broke them apart, she came to her knees astride his waist and cupped his face. “Is that any way to speak to yer betrothed, wicked mon?” she scolded with a teasing glint in her eyes.
He put his hands on her hips and inched her backward so her bottom nestled atop his arousal. “If ’tis wicked ye want…”
His hips moved of their own volition when she arched her back and ground into him. “Fiona,” he rasped, “I look forward with great relish to taking yer maidenhead on our wedding night, but if ye dinna stop wriggling, I canna be held responsible for my actions.”
She put her hands on his chest, leaning to hover her lips over his. “I dinna want to go through the rigmarole of seeking permission to wed in Stirling. I crave ye now.”
*
Shaw collected Caitlin and her sister from their chamber and offered to escort them to the hall to break their fast. “’Tis difficult to spend nights apart with ye so close,” he whispered to his betrothed.
“I hope we hear from Stirling soon,” she replied, squeezing his arm.
The press of her firm breast against his bicep stirred his interest. However, carnal thoughts fled when they came upon Gordon and Logan loitering outside Fiona’s solar, naughty grins on their faces. They studied their feet, looking guilty when they saw him.
“What’s going on?” he asked sternly. “Are ye eavesdropping on yer sister?”
“Nay,” Gordon protested.
“Aye,” Logan said at the same time.
“Is Fiona in there?”
“Nay, we think they’ve gone through to her chamber.”
&nb
sp; “They?” Caitlin asked.
“She invited Laird Blair,” Gordon explained. “At first, there was a lot of laughter, but then it went quiet.”
“Why would she invite Rory?” Nairn asked. “I thought they hated each other.”
Shaw exchanged a knowing smile with his bride. “Could be they like each other. A lot.”
“I agree,” Logan said, nodding like a wise auld mon. “It sounded like they were kissing.”
“Ew,” Nairn replied. “They’re too auld for kissing.”
Caitlin put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Our brother might have found the right woman at last. We should be happy for him.”
Nairn frowned. “Fiona Drummond—the right woman?”
“Aye,” Shaw replied. “Who’d have guessed?”
Nairn remained silent for a few moments, then said, “If they love each other, ’tis all that matters.”
Stunned Silence
When they reached the hall, the sight of her father and Brodie Drummond sitting side by side at one end of the head table caused Caitlin to stumble on the step up to the dais. “What’s going on?” she whispered to Shaw as he steadied her.
“I dinna ken,” he admitted. “’Tis amazing to see them both out of bed and properly attired so early in the morn.”
“Never mind that they’re smiling at each other, and at us,” she replied as she sat.
The out-of-character behavior of the two men had evidently stunned the folks of Drummond Castle into silence. All eyes watched the pair warily.
That changed when Rory and Fiona strode into the hall, arm in arm. Every head swiveled in their direction. Many gaped. Caitlin’s brother strutted like a peacock. Fiona’s face was as red as a winter beetroot, her hair disheveled. “I’d say they were doing more than kissing,” Caitlin whispered to Shaw.
There was an audible intake of breath when Rory and Fiona went to speak with both their grinning fathers. The men shook hands. Fiona pecked a kiss on each former laird’s cheek.
Rory winked at Shaw and Caitlin as he escorted Fiona to her place, then sat beside her.
Speculative murmurs gradually filled the silence as people resumed eating. Excited for her brother, Caitlin could barely eat any of the aromatic smoked ham and fresh bread.
Shaw clasped her hand under the table. “I spoke with my father last night. It seems to have done some good.”
“Fingers crossed,” she replied, proud of her husband-to-be. Her hopes faltered when Shaw’s father rose, pressed both fisted hands into the table and leaned forward to glare at the crowd.
Seemingly satisfied when a hush fell quickly, Brodie Drummond declared, “I’ve several announcements to make this morn, so pay attention. I dinna wish to be on my feet overlong.”
Subdued chuckles greeted his pronouncement, but soon quieted when he didn’t smile.
“I have served this ancient clan as laird for many a year, and been proud to do so. Truth be told, ye all ken I didna want to relinquish the chieftaincy to my son.”
Caitlin meshed her fingers with Shaw’s when he gripped her hand.
“However, ’tis time for a new leader. I havena been a good laird for the last while.”
“Nay,” a few in the crowd whispered.
“Och, aye,” Brodie insisted. “I’ve let hatred and resentment rule me for too long, not to mention my fondness for the whisky.”
More chuckling.
“Shaw is willing to make peace, and ending the feud is the only way forward for our clan and the Blairs. He is a wiser and more courageous mon than I, and Caitlin Blair is the perfect wife for him. Do ye nay agree, Ian?”
People stared in amazement as Caitlin’s father rose, smiled at her and declared, “Aye. My beautiful daughter will do ye proud as Lady of Drummond.”
The hearty applause and cheering that followed the unexpected praise warmed Caitlin’s heart. “I’m overjoyed yer father has finally recognized ye as laird,” she told Shaw.
He put his arm around her. “And yer sire is correct—ye’ll be the best Lady Drummond this clan has ever had.”
“Be patient, ye lovebirds,” Brodie admonished, eliciting more laughter. “My auld knees are about to buckle and I’ve yet to tell ye my beloved Fiona and Laird Rory Blair plan to tie the knot also.”
“Ha,” Rory exclaimed, banging his fist on the table. “Tie the knot, my love!”
The grinning Fiona seemed to be the only other person in the hall who understood what was so funny, but everyone cheered anyway.
*
A myriad of emotions swirled in Shaw’s heart as he rose to respond to his father’s words—vindication, pride, gratitude. “I was born to be laird of this clan,” he began, scanning the familiar faces in the crowd, “but only because I am the eldest son of Brodie Drummond, a mon who has devoted his life to serving ye.”
Loud cheering greeted his assertion.
“’Twas my father who taught me to stand up for what I think is right. Ending the feud is the only way for both clans to prosper.”
There was applause, but not as loud as before. He glanced at Caitlin, confident she’d help him convince the naysayers. “However,” he shouted, deliberately raising his voice. “Old hatreds die hard. When I was told of King William’s determination to end the feud by forcing me to wed a Blair…”
As he’d expected, boos resounded at the mention of the king’s name.
“Aye. Like ye, I resented the very notion.” He paused to let his words sink in. “But when I set eyes on Caitlin Blair for the first time, I kent there was a force greater than myself at work. And I’m nay referring to the king.”
Laughter rang out.
He took Caitlin’s hand and bade her stand. “Can ye blame a red-blooded Highland laddie for being smitten?”
The cheers and whistling were deafening. Caitlin’s face reddened at the bawdy remarks a few shouted.
As she regained her seat, Shaw turned his attention to his sister. “Lady Fiona Drummond,” he yelled over the din, “I canna tell ye how happy I am ye’ve found yer soul mate at last.”
Fists banged tables, feet stomped the planked floor.
Shaw held up a hand. When calm was restored, he addressed Rory. “I suppose ’twas to be expected my sister wouldna settle for just any mon. Nay, she has chosen a braw Highlander who has taken over the chieftaincy of another proud and ancient clan from his father. Ye have a lot to live up to, Rory Blair, and if ye do aught to hurt my sister, ye’ll ignite a whole new feud.”
He stared at puzzled faces for a few seconds before he winked. Amid the ensuing raucous pandemonium, he raised his tankard and called for a toast. “For Drummond.”
“Aye,” echoed off the stone walls as tankards were lifted.
“For Blair.”
“Aye.”
“For a peaceful and prosperous future.”
“Aye.”
Arrangements
Once servants had cleared away the tables, Fiona invited everyone to her solar. “We need to discuss arrangements,” she suggested. “Now we’ve two weddings to plan.”
“Ye’ll nay have enough room for all of us,” her father replied.
She hadn’t considered he would be interested in attending but, if both fathers intended to be there, he was right. “Perhaps the Chart Room, then?”
“Aye,” Shaw replied with an impish smile. “’Twill be akin to planning a campaign.”
Nobody else seemed to pick up on the irony, but her brother’s blush confirmed he knew he’d misspoken. Nigh on every campaign plotted in the Chart Room for centuries had been against Blairs.
When Rory proffered his arm to escort her, the realization she now had a man of her own dawned on her like the sun bursting through the clouds on a dismal day. She was his to take care of, watch over, cherish. He held her close when they assembled around the tall table. It felt good to be loved.
Shaw removed the pile of maps, then cleared his throat. “As laird, I suppose I should take charge of the meeting. However, plan
ning weddings is nay my forte, so I’ll defer to my capable sister.”
As their eyes met, Fiona recognized for the first time that Shaw held her in high regard. They’d never spoken of their love for one another, but he clearly trusted and recognized her abilities.
Rory beamed with pride.
“First of all,” she began. “We must decide if we want to petition Stirling for a double wedding.”
Rory frowned. “We canna assume Shaw and Caitlin wish to share their nuptials with us.”
“We must hold a double ceremony,” Caitlin declared. “’Twould be wonderful to share the happiest day of my life with my brother.”
“I feel the same,” Shaw added. “Imagine, me and Fiona wed at the same time.”
“I also think a double ceremony is a grand idea,” Rory said. “However, we dinna want to wait for Sir John to make up his mind. He could decide to keep us twisting in the wind for months.”
“Aye,” Brodie agreed. “He might have to ask royal permission.”
“That could take years,” Ian exclaimed. “I’ve heard the king isna weel these days. Pining for his wee dead Mary, I shouldna wonder.”
Silence reigned while everyone contemplated what might happen after William’s death. He’d sired no heirs, so it was likely Mary’s sister would ascend to the throne.
“At least, Anne is a Stuart,” Brodie remarked halfheartedly, echoing the general malaise of most Scots concerning Anne’s ability to provide good government for her subjects.
In an effort to lighten the mood that had suddenly become too somber, Fiona offered a suggestion. She hoped Rory would agree, and that her future father-by-marriage wouldn’t take offense. “My opinion is that Drummond, being the bigger of the two castles, is more suited to a double ceremony.”
Rory bent close to her ear. “I dinna object to getting married in Drummond,” he whispered. “But I’ll nay bed my bride for the first time anywhere else but Ardblair.”
Kilty Party Page 17
