Chapter 59

Bess deposited me outside the great hall where I now paced outside the large double doors. Fanning my face, I tried to quell the nerves and confusion I felt in finding myself in this predicament.

I had just bartered for an autonomous Ellesmure, and I was almost certain I might get it. My cheeks burned from passion, audacity, excitement, and anticipation. Every fiber of my being felt alive, exposed, frayed. I did what I could to temper my hope; the Delegation had not agreed. Not yet.

The noise from the great hall was overwhelming. Peering through the gap between the doors I observed the hall packed beyond capacity. It seemed the entire world had arrived to witness The Standing.

My Standing.

Damn them all.

I was the Laird! This was a debasement! I gulped a breath and shook out my hands. I was only the Laird's daughter. For now. Even with seven older brothers, I would inherit a significant fortune. Never mind that I only had a dowry because of my blood, sweat, and tears. None of my work mattered anymore if this went poorly. Here, at this moment, I would serve the only purpose most people thought me capable of.

I hated them all for it. Hated myself for not fighting harder against it.

I pulled on the bodice of my dress, convinced that by doing so it would become more comfortable, less constructing. The silk stuck against my skin in stale air. Beads of sweat ran down my back with tickling annoyance.

I was tired and hungry and pinched and powered and prickling with rage. Even with the Laird's promise that Alex would be triumphant, bitter anxiety roiled in my gut. What if someone beat him to the bid? Had more money? What if there was a fight? Could I trust the Delegation?

I wiped my clammy hands against my skirt; the fabric doing little to absorb the moisture.

Footsteps echoed on the stone floor and announced the approach of my father. He stopped a few feet from me and we studied each other quizzically. He seemed lucid, alert. He smiled with a proud tilt to his head. It seemed he was here with me in reality... for now.

"You look lovely, Eilean," he said with a courtly bow.

"Thank you, sir," I grumbled. I couldn't help but pray he would remain clearheaded for the rest of the day. The extra guests and festivities had been taxing on him. Alan had worked with him, but they had only had two sessions.

"You look miserable, too," he said, walking a few steps closer. He reached out and took my hands in his. "Come now, smile! This is an important and happy day!"

I scowled at him, my hatred for The Standing apparent. "Being sold off into marriage seems like fine repayment for keeping the walls of Stormway standing. Forgive me, Father, if I am not thrilled by my forthcoming auction."

Father frowned and dropped my hands. Letting out a sigh, he walked toward a nearby window and looked out, studying the picture of rolling fields beyond. "I know this is difficult for you."

I said nothing in response.

"I am indebted to you, of course. Because of your leadership and finesse in managing these lands. But I am home now, as are your brothers. What option is there, Eilean? We must serve our purposes and duty."

It soothed me to remember he knew nothing about the Delegation's presence. The deal we had almost struck. Father was blind to his own shortcomings, and it filled me with heartache.

"What of my duty? My purpose?" I asked, bitter.

Father turned and looked at me, a regretful smile across his face. "I'm afraid this is it."

"It doesn't have to be," I said, rushing to him. Daring to plead my case during this one moment of clarity and alertness. "We can change the rules. I did before. I abolished The Standing. Why are we doing this?"

"Because symbols matter. Tradition matters. The Standing is important, it keeps our families strong. And because I cannot give my daughter away to a Lord of the Mainlands. Did they not beat us in battle? Wouldn't that be a terrible message to send?" Father shook his head, "No, the legitimacy of leadership is too fragile to chance with new ideas and imaginative thinking."

I realized I was wringing my hands together, twisting and twining my fingers until they barked with sharp pain. I stopped to shake out my hands. He was wrong. I hadn't needed tradition or brute force or displays of dominance to run Ellesmure in his stead. Respect, understanding, kindness, hard work — that had been enough. I looked down, knowing with all my heart that my last stand had failed.

Father grunted, then laughed. His face went bright red with amusement.

Panicking, thinking he must have fallen into an episode of battle madness, I looked around for anyone who might help. We were the only ones standing in the hallway. My concern was for naught. As he continued to laugh, I realized he was himself. His eyes clear and his amusement at my expense, not the apparition of a misty memory.

"You remind me so much of your mother, you know."

This must be battle madness, I thought. But no, he was alert. He still seemed present.

"You must be mistaken, sir. Mother and I have very little in common." Was my level response.

"You do," he nodded, smiling to himself. "She's changed a bit over the years. Wealth and children and responsibility will do that... but before we married? Maeve was a force to be reckoned with. Determined, fierce, almost terrifyingly brave. What do you know of her history, girl?"

"She never speaks of her family. If she does, I've not heard it."

Father tutted, "She was an orphan, Eilean."

I started at that. "No one ever told me. I just assumed..."

I looked away, thinking. What had I assumed? That I had no extended family? Father had been an only child, and his parents died long before I was born. But Mother never mentioned her parents or any siblings.

"Your mother was the orphan of ruined farmers. Destitute beyond belief. She worked hard, scraping a life together out of the ruins they left behind. Maeve scratched and clawed her way from poverty and starvation until she was one of the most successful tenant farmers on the island. She never dreamed she'd marry a Laird, but marriage saved her. Your mother is a hard woman, yes; but only because she had to be. Don't fault her for trying to protect you from a life of struggle like she had. Marriage was her savior, and I think all of her fears of a hard life resurfaced when you were born. A girl. What was there to do with you but make sure you made a suitable match? What could we do as parents but shelter you?"

I mulled over this for quite a while, surprised to find that these revelations had very little influence on the scar tissue over my heart where a mother's love should have been. "But I had to scratch and claw, didn't I?" I asked, my tone and heart raw. "And she made it harder because she refused to give me a proper education. Knowledge, not marriage, is a better escape."

Father looked at the floor, his countenance heavy. "We share the blame. Anything you hold your mother responsible for should rest on my shoulders, too."

I couldn't help but wonder if it was too little too late. If this attempt at understanding on the eve of getting rid of me through marriage was a way for my parents to absolve themselves of any lingering guilt.

"For what it's worth, what you did to me, what both of you did to me, is inexcusable."

Father sighed, "I know. I can only hope that someday you might forgive us. We are sorry. I am sorry. If my apology counts for anything, know that I acknowledge we did badly by you. I am sorry that you had to suffer because of my failures."

I shivered as chills ran up and down my limbs. It was the apology I had always wanted, from the lips of a man who would forget this entire conversation before the day was through. I had never known my father, and now returned, his mind so damaged; I would never have the chance to become acquainted with him. It was another theft, another robbery of what I might have had — if only my parents had recognized me as one of their own as they should have.

"Cancel the Standing and I'll forgive you this instant," I said in a half-tease.

Father reached out and held my hands in his. They were large and boxy. The knuckles gnarled and callused, the nails broad and cracked. They were the hands of a man who had worked hard his entire life. I would never fault my father's physical efforts.

"Your mother wants you to be safe, and safe to your mother means married." He snorted, "You know she Stood for me? Why not use some of your new-fangled thinking and Stand for some man?"

This reveal struck me like a bolt of lightning, my jaw dropped in surprise. A question from childhood answered at last. "Women can Stand?"

Father scratched his chin. "It's rare. I only know of your mother doing it, and she did it on a dare. It was a run-of-the-mill Standing in the town square, and I just so happened to be there. I couldn't have been a Laird for more than a few months... She had some bet with her friends she could land the richest husband. I rode into the square just as they brought her up on stage. Maeve called me by name, bold as you please. I was so stunned by her brashness, and she was so beautiful, I accepted her on the spot."

"And you would be comfortable with me doing the same?"

Father eyed me, sized me up. He leveled his gaze at me, cupped me under the chin. "I want you to be happy. I've caused enough for your unhappiness. I won't stand in your way, here."

My chin trembled, and I had to blink to clear away the tears that flooded my eyes. "Thank you," I whispered.

Father wiped my cheeks and pulled me against his chest in a rough hug.

In my life, I had no recollection of being held by my parents. It was a struggle to leash the emotion of longing and delight I felt in his embrace. I was no match for it. I was at the mercy of this extraordinary gesture.

"Your determination always intimidated me, girl," He said, his whiskers snagging on the top of my hair.

"It shouldn't have," I rebuked. "I was no different from the boys."

"Aye, I know that. Add it to the list of things I'll repent for. If you never forgive me, I will have earned your scorn."

When he kissed the top of my head, I forgave him on the spot. A flush of hot and cold and freedom and release made my skin prickle, made me feel ill and off-center. Up and down, weightless and heavy. Everything and nothing.

The sound of trumpeting came from inside the hall. We pulled apart. I wiped my cheeks dry and loosed a shaky breath, still peppered with sobs.

Father offered me his arm, and I took it. I allowed him to walk me through the doors and into the packed hall. We twined our way through the crowd, stopping at the center of the room where a small stage was erected. Father helped me up the steps and positioned me in the middle of the platform. I held my head high and scanned the thousands of eyes that stared up at me. For a moment, I tried out the posture and air of a meek maiden, and it felt wrong. I defaulted to my typical stance: relaxed, alert. I found Alex. He winked. Calum stood behind him, his face a glower of dark determination. Not to win me, that much was apparent. Members of the Delegation were spaced out in the crowd, all of them looking venomous and ready to strike.

"Fair lords, I present to you my daughter, Eileann MacLeod!" Father said, his booming voice cutting through the room. "Though she would prefer it otherwise, her beauty far surpasses her other talents."

I grimaced but kept my head high. A smattering of people laughed.

"She is educated, charming, obedient, and bright."

Alex caught my eye and rolled his own.

Obedient? Me?

I bit my lips to keep from laughing.

"I offer to you, men of the Islands, my daughter for The Standing. Who shall claim her?"

Father's speech was short and perfunctory. Clearly, our moment in the hall was not enough to produce a more flowering introduction.

I looked to where my mother stood, rigid and stoic, by the platform. The mirror of womanhood I might have possessed. A powerful example to grow into. If only she had not been afraid. As I had so many times before, I mourned the loss of a Mother I might have known.

The hall was silent. No one made a move to open the bidding. For a minute, I scanned the crowd, confused. Was I supposed to say something?

I acted before I could learn otherwise. I stepped forward. No one so much as cleared their throat. It was a moment, a touch too exposed for my comfort, but I would not waste the opportunity. With a parting glance at my father, who winked, I opened my mouth.

"Alexander Thomas Leslie, Lord of the Fist, I Stand for you," I called out into the quiet, echoing hall. "I offer you my lands and allowances in return for your hand in marriage."

There was a collective chuckle and then nothing. The air in the room stilled. Even those uninterested in the proceedings turned from their tankards and looked toward where I stood. Alex beamed. Someone in the back of the crowd whistled obscenely. A few men hollered.

Callum, with playful exasperation, said, "Finally. They've been going at it for years."

I straightened my posture to cover my blush and said with a wry smile, "Alex, perhaps it is you who should come stand on the auction block."

Polite laugher fluttered around the room.

"As you wish, my lady," Alex said, inclining his head toward me. He made his way up to the stage, fighting off the jeers, claps on the back, and sly elbows thrown out to rib him. When he arrived on the platform, he offered me a courtly bow and then repeated the show of deference to my father. Insolence rippled through every flourish of his wrist.

I caught my father's eye, and he grinned. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother fan herself, the blade snapping back and forth with her anger. She said nothing, did nothing. The Delegation had somehow managed it.

Alex took my hand, kissed my knuckles. "I gratefully I accept this offer, from a truly exceptional woman."

I bit my lip to tamp down the joy of my success and failed. I thought my face would split in two with happiness.

Only when Alex pulled me into a rough and fervent kiss did I blush. Bending me backward, I surrendered to him. Publicly, for the first time. The hall erupted in cheers and we broke apart, laughing.

Alex leaned into me, speaking into my ear, "You stole my moment!"

"I couldn't help myself." I laughed, "Father dared me to."

"I doubt he meant for you to follow through, my dear." Alex smiled wickedly, and we kissed again. This time with an exuberance I had never known.

"He seemed pretty convincing."

"You're such a threat to honored traditions, Eilean. Though you shouldn't have bothered, Calum and the Delegation had every man here on the threat of death if they dared get in my way."

I looked back out to the crowd, where Calum stood, gloating. A smug, lazy smile stretched across his face.

I laughed, truly happy, but I could not answer as a gaggle of drunk men swarmed the stage and pulled Alex away into the crowd for proper congratulations. Before I could protest, matrons and courtiers rioted around me, gossiping and showering me in good wishes.

Flushed with emotion, I let them pull me into their flowing flurry of laugher and chatter.