Chapter 31

As I made my way down to the great hall, the extra-clean glow of the castle surprised me. Bess ran a tight ship, and Stormway always hummed with efficiency and tidiness, but it was as if the servants had given more care in the scrubbing and polishing. Perhaps everyone was desperate for a small celebration.

Once I entered the hall, it relieved me to see that effort transferred to everyone's appearance. The servants and maids and all of Alex's and Calum's men were and starched and bright-eyed. There wasn't a greasy, muddy, or care-worn stitch of fabric to be seen.

Wearing a glorious greatcoat of burnt, mellow-orange silk, Alex was a vision. The fine cut of his coat was perfectly tailored around his wide shoulders. The suit seemed to absorb the light of the room and then brazenly bounce it off the planes of his face and the curls in his hair with artful temptation. It was like a halo. He bowed from his perch before the head table as I entered the room.

As if following his lead, the room went still and everyone rose to bow as I made my way down the length of the hall.

Overwhelmed with the attention and the flush of embarrassment at having so many eyes on me, I locked eyes with Alex and allowed his steady gaze to usher me forward. He looked somewhat ravaged, his expression haunted and hungry.

Calum, who stood to his right, offered his most flamboyant of courtly deference as I arrived before him. He wore a brocade suit in a cheerful robin's egg blue that made his dark features stark in the dim, flickering light. He had powered his black hair white and applied a false mole on his cheek in the shape of a crescent moon. I laughed at his dedication to formality.

Bess, on Alex's left, was resplendent in a new gown of rich pink that reminded me of her wedding gown. The fabric was bright and warm against her milky-white skin. Her cheeks and eyes seemed to sparkle. She was flushed with obvious happiness, and she offered me a deep curtsy. I reached out to grab her arms. To prevent this show of reverence. Calum clucked at me and shook his head. I allowed the bow. Wallis stood beside her mother in a dress made from matching fabric. She giggled at her mother's curtsy before offering me one of her own. It was rather like watching a bright-cheeked doll come to life.

"My, my, don't we all clean up attractively," I said, accepting Alex's hand as I stepped onto the raised platform upon which the head table was placed.

"We do what we can, but none compare to you, fair lady," Calum offered, ever the charmer.

Alex said nothing, but offered me a wink and gripped my hand in his own. He did not drop the hold on me and I did not think of freeing myself from it. The comfort of his hand in mine offered unquestionable security.

I found, as our eyes met, that I could not breathe. I watched as Alex scanned my face with a dreamy, open-mouthed look. A sudden, incessant excitement filled me from my toes to my ears. I was glad for the dim room which hid the heat of my cheeks. Alex consumed me entirely. I had forgotten, after years of mud-covered work and mended clothes, how handsome he was. The remembrance made me unsteady on my feet.

"You look very nice," I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

Alex cleared his throat, but his voice was rough as he said, "You're a wonder, Eilean. The most beautiful creature that's ever lived."

His words felt like a riptide, a sudden pulling under. I found myself a poor swimmer. As my mind churned, trying to think of something witty or clever or lovely to say, I became conscious of the spectacle the two of us made staring at each other. Of Calum hovering behind Alex, a faint chuckle passing from his lips. The sound of Bess shushing Wallis and turning her away from launching at me for a hug. The room was full of people, silently watching this moment between us.

To distract myself and others, to push down the roar of desire that rose in me like a wall of fire, to stop myself from leaning forward and claiming his lips with my own, I said huskily, "Let's eat."

Turning, but not relaxing my grasp on Alex's hand, I smiled at the assemblage before me.

"Thank you." My gratitude snuffed out the burn of desire. Cooler, calmer emotions took hold. "Thank you all for being here. For your hard work and dedication to this land, to Stormway, to Ellesmure. If I was my brother Ian, I could give you a pretty speech. Perhaps if I was Rupert, I could give you a bawdy one."

Everyone laughed, and I looked down, smiling. A long-forgotten memory of watching my father address a Gathering from this very stage swam forward. I had wondered what it felt like to be listened to, to capture the attention of others. It was indescribable. A bubbly, jittery sensation. It was spectacular.

"As I am not my brothers, and as you are all far too acquainted with me to expect that I might stand on ceremony, I won't try to stun you with a witty speech. I also promise not to get belligerently drunk and tell embarrassing stories about conception or birth." I grimaced playfully and paused as the crowd laughed again. "Please, eat, drink, and enjoy the evening. It is an overdue celebration of you all, my birthday is merely the excuse."

The sound of applause rang out, bouncing off the high stone walls. In the back corner of the room, a handful of people started singing a birthday song, a round sung by pockets of people overlapping and clashing with each other until the last group was left singing in a dramatic, flamboyant way. Only once the song was complete was I allowed to sit down.

Alex led me to the center of the head table and ushered me into my father's ancient, carved seat. The Laird's seat. Not a throne, but an imposing and symbolic chair, nonetheless. I had never dared touch the arms of the chair before. As a child, it would have earned me a scolding. It had sat unused and unseen in the great hall since my family's departure. As I nestled down onto its wide, velvet cushion, something final and knowing locked into place inside of me. It felt right.

Soon, the conversation and wine flowed. We ate course after course of succulent dishes with relish. The flicker and glitter of the polished silver and gold plates were like fireflies that had found their way indoors. Refractions of light bounced off the walls and found their homes in the rafters. It was magical. The chimes rang one, two, three in the morning, and the night passed in a fevered dream state of food, wine, and laughter.

I leaned back into my chair, stuffed and delighted. "Uff!" I managed to breathe against the gentle restraint of my stays. "I haven't eaten that richly in ages." My complaint did not stop me from stuffing a third cream puff with a hard chocolate shell into my mouth.

"Well worth the popped stitches," Calum said, rubbing his stomach with one hand and raising his wineglass with the other. The cut crystal sparkled with a hundred rainbows in the dying candlelight. "To Cook!" He cried out.

"Hear hear!" Alex seconded with a hiccup.

The hall roared with cheers for the kitchen staff.

"Both of you are a disgrace," Bess chided. Her own smile was wide and floppy and her nose was pink from intoxication. She had removed the pins from her hair and it cascaded around her neck and shoulders in a wild style that resembled a lion's mane. Wallis was perched on her lap, pretending not to be sleepy.

I gripped the sides of the laird's chair to keep the room from spinning. Laughter spilled out of me, and I did not stop it. Not only was I drunk, but I was blissful. This higher state of joy added to my drunkenness and made me feel as if I was flying. I stood up quickly, deciding at that moment that it was far past the time to go to bed; only to be brought back down in a flop when I encountered a rush of dizziness.

"Are you leaving your party?" Alex said, his eyes gleaming like polished sapphire.

"I should sleep."

"No, no, no. No. Eilean! Silly! You have to open your presents." He pouted at me, resting his weight against the arms of my chair. His shoulders and arms pressed into mine with familiar warmth.

Worn down by wine and the spirits of the evening, I was an easy mark. I placed my hands in my lap and fluttered my lashes at him. "Than give me presents."

"Well, if you insist," Alex laughed. "Presents!" He bent forward and shouted at Calum, then repeated the appeal to Bess and Wallis. His bark startled my niece and Wallis blinked rapidly at him in astonishment. She had just been on the verge of dozing off.

Calum went first, passing me a small box. Inside was a smooth, white stone. Polished to a high shine and mounted on a simple gold pendant that hung from a delicate gold chain. I sucked in my breath at its simplistic beauty.

"I had little time to get you anything special, my lady," Calum said, ducking his head in humility. "Party planning consumed much of my attention. But I wanted you to have something from my home. That is a piece of marble from Istimere. The mountains are full of it, and they carved the castle from it. That chip there came from my family's dining table. I carried it with me through the fighting to remind me of home. Your smith made it into a bracelet."

Calum stared into my soul. No laugher, no familiar teasing tugging at his lips. Quite undone by the intensity of his stare and the flip-flopping of my stomach in response to it, I turned my attention to the box. Rubbing my thumb over the sleek, cold stone. Its shimmer and faint variations of color impressed me. White and gray, a hue similar to fresh eggshell, a vein of pale blue.

"It's beautiful," I said, rather touched. "Please, I didn't expect any gifts... if this is your token, keep it. I can't take it from you."

"I insist," Calum said. "I have more marble at home than I care to think about."

Meeting his eyes and smiling, I nodded. "As you wish."

"Me next!" Bess said, leaning over the back of my chair and dropping a soft parcel over my shoulder. It flopped in my lap.

"What's this?" I asked her, turning to look at her.

"Open it and see," she said, her face beautiful in the firelight.

I undid the wrapping, surprised to find a pair of trousers. Newly-made, not one of my brothers' tailored to fit, but made from lovely navy wool. I laughed, confused.

"Now, before you protest, know this: they cost less money and use less fabric than gowns. They're more economical."

Alex and Calum laughed under their breaths. Between them, I did not miss the look they shared.

"Miser," Calum said, shaking his head.

Bess continued, "Your hems are six inches in mud every day, and I have it on good authority that the laundresses are tired of scrubbing."

I laughed, enjoying the joke. "Hilarious, Bess." I folded the pants and placed them on the table.

"Oh, I'm not kidding," she said, and she waved Wallis forward. The girl carried a lovely, supple pair of knee-high boots made from buttery-soft black leather.

"Happy birthday!" Wallis said, holding the boots up for me to take.

"Thank you, baby," I said, taking the pair of boots, dazed.

Alex snorted into his wine. Calum watched the exchange with a bemused expression. It was another one of their conspiracies.

"I think you can make them quite the fashion," Bess said, sauntering back to her chair, Wallis in tow.

"We'll see," I grumbled, rolling my eyes.

"Laird Eilean!" Came a shout from the hall as one of Angus' messengers ran forward holding aloft a dirty and crumpled letter.

Beside me, Calum went stiff, and he sat up in his chair — all traces of drunk drowsiness and pompous insolence gone in a second.

"This just came for you, Miss," the messenger said, stepping up onto the platform and handing me the note. "Must be urgent to come at this hour."

Calum rested his hand over mine after I took the letter. "I would wait to read that later when you're alone." He smiled, but the expression was forced. "Why spoil the party?"

Drunk and thinking little of the letter, I shrugged. It slipped into my pocket without another thought. Calum seemed to relax.

"Drink some wine, Laird Grant, you seem quite alarmed," I said.

Calum did so, but he remained rigid.

"My turn!" Alex said brightly. He watched Calum for a few moments, a pucker between his eyebrows. Then, shaking his head, Alex's concern faded, and he smiled.

He distracted me easily enough as he pulled a heavy, thick rectangle from under his seat. The weight of the package settled in my open hands and I raised my brows. I pulled back the paper to reveal five red, leather-bound ledgers.

Embossed with gold filigree and stamped with my initials: ERM. The leather was as smooth as silk. The edges of the paper were covered in gold and maroon marbling. I looked up at Alex, shocked. Amazed by their beauty and impressed by their usefulness. He smirked at me, looking as pleased as a cat with a mouse.

"I thought it was high time you started your own household accounts. No more scrap papers, no more filling in the back of old account books, No more annotations to the Lairds McLeod before you. You are Laird McLeod now. We should outfit you as such." Alex nodded with solemn assertion.

I was touched more deeply than I could articulate. He was validating the work I had done, the effort I had made, the confidence I had gained. Speechless, I reached for his hand and held it, squeezing it hard. "Thank you, Alex," I choked out as tears blurred my vision. I leaned forward, forgetting the din of the room, the lively party before us. "You are invaluable to me," I whispered.

Overcome with an emotion that confused and terrified me, I surprised myself by leaning into it. I couldn't name it, didn't understand the profound shift that settled deep into my bones, but I could have drunk from its well for a lifetime.

Angus, who had appeared at the base of the platform, cleared his throat. "If your ladyship wouldn't mind, I would like to offer a gift."

In the dim twilight of my wine-addled mind, I noticed he held a lute.

The room quieted and several people near Angus leaned forward, a look of excitement on their faces. Alex sat up straighter beside me and beamed. Calum laughed.

"Of course," I said, observing the change in the room with wonder.

"Upstaged by a bard," Alex grumbled.

When I turned to him, he was grinning, and his eyes burned with an expression that made me breathless. "What are you talking about? Why is everyone so excited?"

"You would know if you ever went to church." He knocked my arm good-naturedly. "Angus is a marvel."

I was incredulous. "You don't go to church either," was my comeback.

Alex smiled wide and winked. "Sometimes I do. For Angus."

Down on the floor, Angus tuned his lute and shook out his fingers. He inhaled deeply and centered himself.

"You've never mentioned this —"

Alex shushed me with playful exaggeration, and a few people tittered at the pantomime. The entire room seemed to darken, except for the aura of anticipation around Angus. He shone with an otherworldly presence. Straightening his shoulders, he strummed a chord or two on the lute and sang.

My mouth fell open in astonishment.

Angus sang a mournful tune about a lonely witch stranded on an island. She built a lover out of sea foam before he dissolved into a pile of pearls under the light of a full moon. Angus' voice rang through the hall with perfect clarity. It was a rich, sonorous baritone full of feeling and heartache. He played the lute with fluttering, deft fingers, coaxing a sound out of the instrument that suggested someone had invented it solely for his mastery. As his final cords filled the room, as the witch lay dying in a midnight surf, I was crying.

There was a long, extended silence before the room thundered with applause. People wiped their eyes as they whooped.

Dabbing at my own eyes, I turned to Calum, "How dare you keep him hidden away like that."

"Oh, Angus is far from modest. You're just a sinner." As he teased, Calum covered his own sniffles. He smoothed his cravat and cleared his throat. "Well! I think that's all for me tonight!"

"Quitting the party so soon?" I feigned horror, clutching my hand to my chest.

"I should go to bed," Calum said blandly. His eyes flitted back and forth between me and Alex. "Maybe you should, too," he added with a suggestive snicker.

My breathing quickened at the suggestion and I stuttered an intelligible reply.

"May I escort you back to your rooms?" Calum asked. "I have a final token I wish to impart, but I want to give it in private." His eyes were pensive, his shoulders heavy. He looked deflated and slouched in his chair.

"What's going on over here, what are you whispering about?" Alex's voice cut through the moment.

Calum held up his hands, laughing as he rearranged his features into the familiar cocky mask of self-assurance. "I wish to give the lady a letter," he said. "I will escort her back to her rooms, then you may come and give her kiss goodnight."

Bess' eyebrows shot up into her hairline, and I blushed. Alex narrowed his eyes but smiled.

"May I?" Calum asked, offering me his hand.

I nodded and accepted it, if only because I was eager to distract myself from the way my heartbeat thundered in my ears. Better to exit before questions started. Standing up, I grimaced at Alex, unsure of what to say. In a trance, it seemed, I left the party on Calum's arm.