“I certainly willnae,” Brighde replied, affronted. “The wish only works for the one who found the bean. That’s the magic of it.”
“But this was yer loaf before ye shared it with me. Surely it’s yer wish.”
Brighde shook her head and folded her arms, smiling like an imp. “I gave it up fairly, which means it was intended for ye by the fates. Besides, coming here must have been hard for ye, under the circumstances,” his sister said, softening. “It’s surely a pleasure to have found it. Is it nay?”
Aileana cleared her throat and forced her smile back into place.
Frowning further, James leaned close to Aileana, but she pushed to standing before he could say another word, scooting back her chair with a slow scrape that echoed off the plastered stone. Rapt with interest, quiet mutters ensued, hanging on the silence for the new woman to speak, and James’s ears didn’t lie. Knowing remarks that the bean must have been intentionally given to her tainted the mood.
She cleared her throat again. Pulled her Grant tartan tighter around her shoulders. Looked down at James, then at Brighde, then out at everyone.
“I ken my coming here must have been a surprise.”
A few muffled snorts sounded, and that anger James had felt at his people today burgeoned anew. He scraped back his chair, shoving to his feet to confront the problem head-on; his jaw tightened, his teeth clenched so firmly, they would ache come the morrow.
“Nay, James. It’s all right,” Aileana muttered, grasping his forearm to stay him.
“It’s nay all right,” he growled, then turned to the great hall to administer the scolding he’d been mulling over all day. “Where is yer hospitality?”
The mutters ceased, and all eyes widened upon him. Did he look as irritated as he felt?
“Please,” she said softly, and squeezed him.
He gazed down at her, feeling himself soften. This is what Seamus must have felt like when his youngest sister challenged him at every turn: wishing he could silence her, yet the soft tones of her voice and passion lighting her bonny eyes stayed a man who cared about her and willed him to listen to what she had to say. Duly quelled, he nodded stoutly and eased back to his rear, though he remained on edge.
“It was a surprise to me, too, for I didnae expect to be bartered in a marriage deal the day yer laird rode to our gates. He has his reasons for demanding marriage. Mayhap it truly is to try and bring my brother to his heel.”
Again, James felt the need to rise, this time to defend himself, but defend himself from what? His reasons had been just as selfish, even if it was what he had to do to get the money. Yet Aileana didn’t give him a chance to speak as she continued.
“I remember no such day, in either my lifetime or in the lore that has gone down in history betwixt our people, when the Grants and the MacDonalds have ever bestowed a single kindness upon the other. The true reasons for our rivalry, I do nay even ken. Do ye?”
The hall remained silent. The hearth flames danced and crackled, and one of his hunting hounds paced across the floor, rummaging for food scraps.
“I understand why ye dislike me. In sooth, I thought much ill of yer laird…until I met him.” Her eyes once more fluttered down to him but didn’t remain upon him. “To me, a MacDonald was always a beastly, frightening warrior, with a face painted in woad and mud, raising their swords high, battle cries spilling from their lips, destroying our home. Burning all we had worked so hard to plant and reap, stealing our livelihood, making widows out of our maids, and leaving my sister and me terrified, in hiding, and with naught. But that’s nay who ye really are. Is it? Since coming here, I’ve seen jolly folk, anxious to sing and celebrate. Children healthy and excited for Christmastide. I’ve heard stories about yer suffering that ring true in mine own ears, of losing everything due to my brother’s raid upon ye. And I’ve come to understand that the anger and passion that lies betwixt us is shared mutually by us.”
James peeled his gaze away from the command Aileana gripped upon the hall, and he once more perused his peoples’ faces. Who knew she might be an inspiring speaker? As if spellbound, they listened to her every word.
“I’ve never gotten the bean before tonight.” She held up the bean for the hall to see. “And I ken my finding it seems unfair to many of ye because of my surname. And so, for my wish, and since the Lady Brighde willnae take it as I requested—”
She cast a fond smile down at his sister now, and Brighde reciprocated, taking Aileana’s hand in hers and squeezing it. A wistful smile feathered across James’s lips, realizing that on this front, he’d been right. Brighde missed having a sister, and although no one could replace Marjorie, it was because of Marjorie’s lot in an enemy clan’s household that Brighde could be as sympathetic as she was. Aileana might one day fill that void Marjorie’s absence had left. If only she would choose to stay.
“I make a wish for all of ye, instead.” An impish smile tipped up her lips, lighting her face and causing her hazel eyes, made bright and rich green by the glowing hearth and torchlight, to glow like jewels. Sakes, what stunt was she about to pull? “’Tis my wish that ye each get a wish.”
Some murmurs and a few chuckles filtered through the silence now. Aileana smiled at them.
“We all get a wish?” The murmurs rippled across the hall. “What would ye wish for?”
“And what if I refuse?” James jested now, feeling the pinch in his chest relent an increment, unable to resist his own smile as the chattering grew louder. He stood once more. “Ye heard Angus. Last year he begged for a pile of gold. They’ll break my coffers, woman.”
Aileana shrugged, though her smile turned coy upon him. “Ye cannae refuse now, for it’s been so declared. And it’s a good thing ye’re wealthy.”
The playfulness soured on his tongue. Nay. He wasn’t wealthy. The whole reason he’d tried to force this marriage had been for his inheritance. Hadn’t it? Aye. And nay. Ye took one look at this hellion. Ye listened to her spiked barbs, and ye wanted to parry with her. Ye wanted to ken everything about a wee Grant woman who’d dare to steal from a MacDonald. Careful, man, that she doesnae crawl beneath yer skin and steal into yer heart, as well.
Chapter Eight
27th of December
The hall was lively as a bard sang and musicians played in anticipation of the Yule log lighting. Aileana couldn’t remember a time when such merrymaking had graced the halls of Urquhart. She watched maids dance with soldiers, smiles on their faces. Guarded smiles cast her way from time to time, too. What should she make of that? Guardsmen chanted along to the bard’s song with tankards held high, and children dashed about, weaving through the others and sneaking nibbles off platters. She smiled at their antics.
“The dancing is merry,” Lady Brighde said beside her as they bound their ashen twigs for the Yule fire. “Do ye think ye’ll try dancing tonight? I was sad to see ye skip the fanfare last night.”
Lord no. The commons floor would probably clear of all the people wanting to evade proximity to a Grant. She swallowed. Still, ever since arriving, Brighde had made an effort to be welcoming and charitable, just as James had promised she would, and Aileana would foster the chance to be sisterly.
“I admit, I’m tired this eve, but will enjoy watching the festivities. And ye?” she replied. “Do ye plan to dance?”
Brighde grinned. “The night away, aye. This is my favorite season. I enjoy this comradery and warmth and cannae imagine a winter without it.”
Aileana summoned a smile, in spite of the sadness Brighde’s remark evoked. If only her people, too, could find pleasure in the season, for it was an experience so far in her past, it felt foreign now. She had no right to find pleasure relaxing within this enemy hall, basking in having enough, which admittedly felt…wonderful.
“It might interest ye to learn that my brother is actually quite light of foot when he dances and surely wouldna’ mind a
good reel with his new bride, in case ye change yer mind.” Brighde winked at Aileana now. “I see the way he watches ye. He’s unable to peel his gaze away. I’ve never seen him so taken with a woman before.”
Heat ravaged Aileana’s cheeks to be the center of so much attention. She cupped her hand upon one.
“How are yer twigs, lady?” Brighde changed the subject.
Aileana tucked the flexible ends of the evergreen around the sticks—a never-ending process, it seemed. For each day they made more, and each eve, the womenfolk burned them with a blessing tied to them, the sparks induced by the popping evergreen fabled to be the magic of the blessing coming true. She stacked it in the basket between them.
“I suspect I’ve made at least a dozen,” she replied.
“And yet ye give them away, and nay once have ye made yer own blessing.”
God no. After last night, Aileana had learned her lesson well. These folk would certainly grab torches and pitchforks if she declared a blessing in front of everyone. And yet the faces had been gentler today. She’d been treated to a kind smile or two, a curtsy here and there.
A cluster of young girls arrived before her now, giggling, red-cheeked with embarrassment. No one spoke, as if too nervous to address her. Aileana grinned at them.
“Have ye come for more blessings?” She eyed them playfully.
The children, brimming with expectance, eyed one another, then nodded.
Aileana chuckled. “Here, then.” She scooped up the bundle of ashen twigs and passed them out in turn. “Make a fine blessing with each one.”
“My thanks, mi lady,” they muttered, then giggled and scurried away.
Still chuckling, Aileana shook her head. “I remember all too well being a giddy wee lassie.”
Brighde laughed in her good-natured way, as if none of the world’s ills could dash her constant happiness. How she found such happiness after the tragic loss of her sister, Aileana wished she knew. “They’re curious about ye. Everyone is. Even Angus is warming to the idea of ye living here… Sorry. I prattle too much sometimes. It’s just, I havenae had a sister to gossip with in so long.”
She spied wee Maudie—ever obedient—carrying bundles of table linens from the kitchen wardrobes. Maudie glanced her way, and Aileana smiled at the child, who smiled back, a toothless grin. Platters of rich foods were being laid out, and laughter erupted from the hearth, where several men sat or stood in congregation, regaling each other with tales of conquests, both on the battlefield and in the bedchamber.
She shook her head, amused. “Are menfolk so much the same everywhere? For I’ve watched Urquhart’s soldiers do the same as they do time and again.”
Brighde laughed. “Ach, menfolk love to hear themselves talk. An illness that afflicts them all. Tell me, what are the festivities at Urquhart Castle?”
Aileana cleared her throat as memories of Urquhart’s barren walls and miserable folk assailed her, dampening her smile. How was Peigi doing? How was Sir Donegal? Her brother? Was Lady Elizabeth still healthy? Bitterness still lingered at the thought of her brother, so willing to send one of them away, even if she understood his predicament.
“Of late, we havenae celebrated much,” she replied.
“Why no’?” gasped Brighde. “This is by far the best part of the entire year! Midwinter is so cold, but the celebrations of Twelfthtide and all the food and drink make it such a merry time…” Her face fell. “Or is yer brother one of those religious adherents who purport that all celebrations are akin to debauchery?”
Aileana took a deep breath. Did Brighde not understand the extent of their clans’ rivalries? Was she not aware of the truth that had transpired two years ago, when James had overtaken their walls, and the lingering effect it had had? Just as she’d not been aware of Seamus’s transgressions?
She shook her head. “As of late, we’ve had less than previous winters due to raiding. But celebrations used to be such festive times.”
A commotion near the kitchens rose above the cheer. She glanced toward it.
“Help!” cried a maid. It was Anag. “Come help! It’s me sister, Maudie!”
Aileana thrust aside the twigs in her lap. What had happened? Maudie had been fine moments ago.
The guardsmen clattered from their posts, and the hall swarmed toward the corridor.
“She chokes! She cannae breathe!”
Anag’s frantic cry continued, and Aileana wedged her way through the crowd, who might have wished to help but created more of a hindrance by blockading the path.
“Pardon!” she called, nudging.
She collapsed to her knees beside the child upon Anag’s lap, whose face was red and her hands at her throat, unable to gain a breath. Anag slapped her back.
“Maudie! Cough it out, sister!”
“Allow me,” Aileana said.
“I’ll no’ allow a Grant to touch her—” Anag cut herself off.
Aileana ignored the knee-jerk admonishment and seized the girl out of Anag’s arms. Grasping the child around her back, she wedged a fist in her belly and jerked it inward, pumping, pumping. Maudie’s face was purpling. The bairn floundered desperately. Anag screamed and clenched Maudie’s skirts amid the commotion of muttering and panic, pumping, pumping, sweat breaking out on her brow, until a wad came flying forth from Maudie’s mouth as James, fresh from outdoors and still dusted in snow, shoved through the throng.
The wad bounced off his boot. Maudie inhaled with a gasp, crumpling against Aileana, coughing. Then came her tears, and she wrapped her arms around Aileana’s neck.
“Wheesht, lassie,” Aileana crooned, rocking her and smoothing her bonneted head. “Wheesht. All is well now. Breathe.” She turned to the nearby kitchen maid, ignoring Anag, for her accusatory remark had hurt. “What happened?”
“We popped a piece of apple in her mouth as she went about her business,” a kitchen maid admitted, dropping down before Anag and taking Anag’s hand. “We was just tryin’ to give the wee one a treat. I’m so sorry, Anag.”
“It wasnae yer fault,” Anag replied, wiping her eyes.
Aileana glanced up at James, whose chest still rose and fell from his obvious sprint indoors at the sound of distress.
“Ye saved the bairn, Aileana,” he said gruffly.
And soon, other whispers of surprise circulated. “More benevolence from a Grant,” another muttered, though the looks on the surrounding faces were surprised. And kind.
Still. She hadn’t done it to be benevolent. She’d done it because it was what anyone would do for another, if they knew how to help, wasn’t it? Tentative smiles met her gaze. She passed off Maudie into Anag’s waiting arms and, having collapsed without care for her skirts, began to disentangle them to stand.
Anag snagged her hand. Aileana paused and took in the maid’s distress. “My thanks. After losing my husband, I fear I’d never recover if Maudie were taken from me, too.”
Aileana nodded once, the curt gesture all that she could muster. James extended his hand down to her, and while normally she would ignore a man’s assistance, she felt compelled to take his offer now. His face was stricken, solemn. She placed her fingers in his, gazing up at him towering over her. From her vantage on the floor, she was eye-level with his knees, his great kilt draping over his thighs in thick folds. So close. So intimate, in front of so many people, for she was only a mere foot away from that which lay beneath the tartan.
He hoisted her upward, bracing her armpit with his other hand for leverage, and righted her. Then he bent to one knee and lifted Maudie’s face to inspect her.
“Are ye well now?” he asked the child, who nodded and smiled up at Aileana.
Bless the lass. Aside from Brighde, Maudie had been the first and only other friendly face here.
“Bless yer wife, mi laird,” Anag cried, still cupping Maudie’s head and cradling her on her lap.
“Bless the Lady Aileana for saving my sister’s life. Mi lady, I’m sorry for what I said and for my anger toward ye.”
Aileana shook her head, dropped her gaze, and worked her fingers together at her waist. “I’m sorry ye had cause for such anger toward my people.”
“I’m indebted to ye, mi lady,” the maid insisted.
James tousled the child’s head, mussing her bonnet. “If ye wanted to shirk yer duties, lassie, ye had nay to go to such drastic measures.” He chuckled, as did the others around them. “Put down yer chores and play tonight.”
He winked at her, and Maudie grinned. Goodness, so James Moidartach, the Devil MacDonald, fed foxes, avenged his fated sister, Marjorie, by treating women with respect, enjoyed country gallivants, and doted on children. Not much of a warlord, as was her brother, Seamus, kind to those in his charge and good to animals. She’d been shocked at Anag’s accusations, and it was becoming clear that neither man was a warlord, but rather a worried brother to his sisters, and that both clans had harbored misconceptions. It was easy to hate someone considered an “enemy.” It was far harder to see them as human.
As James escorted her across the hall and up the steps to the hearth, he took up her hand and brought it to his mouth, then placed his lips upon her knuckles. “What did I say? Act like yerself, and they’d see who ye really are.”
“I did nothing but what anyone would do had they learned the skill.”
He shook his head, his lips still pressed to her hand, warming her. “How many noble ladies would have taken such action with no thought or even known what to do?”
Aileana, baffled, shrugged. “I do nay ken what ye’re getting at.”
“I’m saying that for all that yer tongue argues, even in the face of praise,” he admonished with a smirk, “that ye have a deep love for yer people, and it shows.” She looked up at him while they walked.
“These are yer people, Jamie. I merely did what I thought was right.”
He swallowed hard, brought her hand down from his mouth, and gazed straight ahead of him. His jaw tightened, and he ground out his next words. “I suppose, then, that any man will be lucky to have ye as his wife and have ye claim his people as yer own, since I ken it willnae be me.” He cleared his throat, his arm holding her hand stiff and his lips tight.
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