Chapter 36

6 Months Later

The first harvest after Alex's lifesaving return to Stormway was the biggest Ellesmure had produced in over a decade. Even my father and brothers had been unsuccessful in coaxing such riches from the ground. Working tirelessly, we put aside a mind-blowing three-year surplus — giving us an amount of food that almost equaled the peacetime reserves. The exhilaration and relief of our success carried us through an exceptionally hard winter. A season that would have decimated Ellesmure a year prior.

Before the seas became impassable from winter storms, men trickled onto my shores throughout the late summer and early autumn. Full regiments camped on the beaches and rested on home territory before packing up their supplies and heading for far distant sands. It was a full day's ride from the coast to the castle, yet many returning Lairds came to pay their respects. All of them mentioned Calum's suggestion that the "Lady Laird of Stormway" would permit them to recoup on Ellesmure beaches.

At first, I rode out with Alex and Angus to meet every ship. When that became too demanding, we erected an outpost and lighthouse on a prominent peninsula. Alex's Mainlander men and Calum's Northerners, plus a smattering of enterprising townsfolk from nearby villages, manned the outpost. Soon it was a hub of trading, migration, and legendary food. Drab and starving returning soldiers wrote songs and penned letters honoring Lucinda, a young woman who enchanted them all with her (if you could believe the rumors) witchy talent for cooking.

The next spring, well-fed and hard-muscled from a year of labor, I busted all the shoulder seams of my dresses. Rather than wait for alterations or a new wardrobe, I playfully donned Bess' birthday present at last. Raiding my brother's closet for shirts and vests, I pulled together a respectable enough outfit — for a woman wearing pants. The soft leather booths and the freedom of my breeches were a revelation.

"You could have spent the money on new clothes, you know," Alex said dryly on the morning of the debut of my new ensemble.

It was a grey, misty March dawn with snapping winds and the threat of rain.

I had spent the last hour extolling the virtues and insight of unencumbered leg movement. My breakfast lay forgotten on my plate and Alex, looking distinctly long-suffering, listened as he chomped on a stack of hotcakes slathered in butter.

"They're so light!" I marveled for the hundredth time. "And it's not a money issue."

Alex scoffed.

"But if it were, I'd have the entire castle outfitted in pants. The sheer savings on fabric costs alone would be worth it."

Alex laughed and shook his head, shoving a large forkful into his mouth.

"That's the other thing," I said, pointing to his face. "All this food has made me fat!" I announced this gleefully, grateful for a full stomach and cellars full of surplus. I rubbed my stomach and remembered my hotcakes at last. Reaching for one, I folded it up and popped it whole into my mouth.

Alex laughed again and refilled my coffee cup. "By all means, keep eating."

"They're dreadfully comfortable," I said through a mouthful. To prove my point, I kicked my legs out in front of me and pumped them as if I were swimming.

"You've mentioned."

"And it was so much easier to get dressed! Besides, my brothers have so many old clothes lying around it would be a pity to let them go to waste."

"Perhaps you'll inspire the next fashion movement."

I snorted into my coffee. "No one seems to notice. I went for a walk around the grounds before you brought breakfast. You know, to see if anyone would say something. Nothing! It made me so cross."

"Why should that make you cross?"

Grinning, I laughed. "They're a great joke! Eilean MacLeod, Lady Laird of Ellesmure: now in breeches! Her good breeding has failed her at last!"

"Are you going to make me talk about your pants all day?" Alex sighed.

"Yes," I cackled with devilish delight.

~

Time continued ever onward. Months turned into years that faded around the edges and bled into one another. Calum came and went, bringing us news and updates from the other Islands. Soon, the Lairds would convene to reconsider the Island Charter and create measures to prevent future war. I was not to be invited, but Calum promised to represent the interests of Ellesmure and feed me information from the delegation. Calum and I were not the only new Lairds. The war had caused such a changeover in family leaders. The old guard was dead, and the newer, younger rulers wanted a say in how things would be. Calum was quite optimistic that they could make significant changes. Thanks to his smart politicking and frequent assurances I was not a threat, no one came knocking on my doors demanding control of Ellesmure.

In hindsight, my accidental alliances with the Laird of the Northern Islands, the second-largest territory after Ellesmure, and an open if not legitimized relationship with Alex, heir the largest landmass in the world — kept any would-be conquerors far from my shores.

Ellesmure thrived, and I grew into my confidence and ability. We had another ample harvest, able to fill granaries and pantries past antebellum stock. Still, there was excess, so I created a food distribution system for those who were without. Every week, carts laden with supplies, food, and essential items went out to the four corners of the island. Anyone could take what they needed from the carts without question and without payment.

With The Standings suspended, summer became the preferred season for weddings. The men from the Fist and from Istimere married into Ellesmure bloodlines, settling down and building families. The youth who had been in their teens at the start of the war grew up, fell in love, and started households of their own.

It wasn't long before babies and children were once again heard squealing and squalling throughout the castle. With the war over and the promise of new laws to prevent such violence in the future, new mothers and fathers lived in relative peace and security. They replenished their broods year after year.

In response to the crop of youngsters, a robust educational initiative was established. Each village was now required to have a school. Angus and I oversaw the construction of schoolhouses across Ellesmure. The best teachers were hired from neighboring islands and the Mainland to ensure the finest education was available. In the evening, night classes were accessible to adults so that they might learn the fundamentals of reading, writing, math, accounting, science, and the law. Never again would a person on Ellesmure endure the shame and tragedy that came from ignorance.

It was no small thing to admit that the endless work kept me happy and fulfilled.

"You don't miss them at all, do you?" Alex asked on a late summer afternoon, two years after his arrival.

We were in the new barn, raised the week prior with great fanfare and celebration. He was preparing the horse stalls, sweeping fresh hay into every pen. I was indolent, leaning against a large haystack and content to watch him work. I had undone my braid and was finger-coming my hair, much too distracted by the ripple of muscles over his shoulders and forearms as he moved. Ignoring his question, I pulled pieces of straw out of my curls and hummed a ditty to myself. I would answer, eventually. When he stopped looking so tempting.

"What's to miss?" I said after a minute. There was a brief stab of guilt low in my gut, but it soon passed.

Alex looked at me with a raised brow.

"Does that me terrible?" I asked.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Alex considered me. After a moment, he said, "No. I don't think so."

With a sigh of relief, I sank back into the hay. "I know I am supposed to miss them. I know I'm supposed to pray and wail and bargain with god for their return but..."

It took a minute to gather my thoughts and organize the frantic churn of heartless justifications for my feelings.

Alex stopped sweeping the stalls and leaned against his broomstick. He gazed at me intently but did not rush me. I smiled at his patience. A ray of sunlight fell across his face. Tanned, strong, open: the same face I had known all my life. Perhaps a little older now, a touch rougher around the edges. Contentment and happiness filled in the hole where guilt lived in my mind. Everything was beautiful, and the moment was perfect.

I stood up, dusting off my backside, and walked to the open barn doors. Leaning against the door frame, I stared out across the land before me. Rolling pastures, the ocean far into the distance glinting in the light, the salty brine in the air.

Alex walked up behind me, hovering close but saying nothing.

"I'm good at this," I whispered, daring him to prove me wrong. "We're good at this. I don't miss them because it seems like a waste of time to wish for a past that would have me throwing away my potential."

"We are, you are," Alex confirmed. He placed a hand on my lower back.

"They'd never understand. I know it in my bones. All the freedoms I've enjoyed; the way the chaos and the work make sense to me, give me a reason to wake up."

"Again, I don't think that makes you a bad person." Alex kissed my cheek and pulled me against his hip. "I doubt anyone would disagree with me. You became the person you needed to be. The person your people needed."

I laughed, stunned by his praise. Flinging my arm around his shoulders, I hugged him tight. "One day, Alex, you'll tell me what you really think of me."

"One day, Eilean, you'll think of yourself as highly as I do."

I pulled back and stared up at him, trying to find laughter or mocking in his face, but there was none. There was something, though. A depth, a nameless swirl of heady emotions. My mind turned to the frequency of our nights together. The rush to create and release some pent-up, unspoken sentiment that crackled and burned under our skins. The frenetic, desperate need that made us cling to each other.

Our eyes met, and I drew toward him again, pulled in by the promise of his closeness. His touch. Warm, gentle, steady.

Alex's lips parted, as if to say something, but seeming to think better of it, he instead gave me a deep, lingering kiss. The shock of it — the spontaneity, the openness, the power — knocked me off balance. In the back of my mind, I worried others might see, but sheer enjoyment soon dismissed my concern. I clung to him, clawed at him, and would have him right now; in the daylight, in the barn's exposure. To consecrate and dedicate the structure to our passions.

Alex pulled away. Panting, laughing against my lips, as if he also felt the pull toward indecency. It was enough of a pause that I could pull myself together. I untangled myself from his arms.

"Well, have fun sweeping the stables," I said, clearing my throat. "I, uh, have to go sign a deed. Old McTavish wants to sell his land to the O'Tooles."

Alex nodded. He shook his head as if to clear the hungry, consuming expression and replace it with one of neutrality.

Turning to walk out, my heart was fluttering and my stomach flipping. It was like pulling myself out of heavy molasses.

"Bring me a treat, later," he called after me, his voice tight and controlled.

Looking over my shoulder, I raked my eyes up and down his body, enjoying the view. "What kind?" I asked saucily.

"I'll take anything, you know I'm a glutton," He said with a heartbreaking smile.

It took all my strength to put one foot in front of another and head back to the castle.