Chapter 15
15
“ C eana! Ceana!” Peter’s voice cut through the crowds mingling in the square. He was jumping up and down, waving his hand over his head to be seen because of his short stature. “Ceana!”
The night had truly turned out perfect, and her heart was light. They couldn’t have asked for better weather, and nearly everybody from the village was attending—perhaps some from the neighboring village too.
“I see ye! Nay need to shout!” Ceana called back, but she knew that he was unlikely to hear anything she said.
She had lost Neil and Jeanie over an hour ago. Jeanie was gorging herself on every sweet that she could find, and Ceana wasn’t going to be personally responsible for putting her to bed when she was vibrating with excitement. No. She would leave her husband to trail after his daughter and tell the spirited young lass ‘no’ to something that she wanted as badly as sweets.
Besides, it might give them more time to bond, at the very least. That was what Ceana was truly hoping for. They had arrived after the piper had been playing for a while, and the dance floor had been far too crowded for young Jeanie to join in, but Ceana had promised to help her with her dancing before the evening was over. At least, that was her current plan.
But Peter very clearly wished for her company as well.
Ceana wove through the crowd, hiking up her skirts to make her movements easier, only to nearly trip as something furry darted between her ankles, nipping her calf like a damned snake. She hissed and jumped back to see if she was, in fact, bitten by a snake. That would ruin her whole night. The very last thing she needed at a time like this was to have a swollen leg that stopped her from dancing.
But it was only Myrtle, blinking up at her from between her legs. He walked a few paces away, and then sat, blinking at her again, clearly wanting her to follow him to his master.
“As if I werenae goin’ that way anyway,” she muttered to herself. “Bein’ herded like cattle by a damn cat.”
It would never cease to amaze her how close her brother was with that cat, or how they seemed to be able to communicate with one another mentally. She had never heard of another person being so close to a pet before. Most people weren’t even close with other people like that.
Myrtle disappeared the moment she was close enough to Peter to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer to her. “What are ye yellin’ at me for?”
“There’s a fortune teller here!” Peter cried. “I asked her to tell me about Myrtle’s past! She says that we have always kenned each other’s spirits! I told her that makes sense, given that Myrtle’s me best friend.”
Such a sweet boy, with a heart too kind for the cruelty of the other rougher children. But what made her the happiest was that Peter was so set in his ways. He had always been so steady in his beliefs and never let the opinions of others get to him. She wished that she had the same inner strength that he had. Another thing that she was grateful to Myrtle for was that he always seemed to protect Peter in his own way.
“Ye’re goin’ to tear me arm off, Peter!” She giggled as she trailed behind her brother, leaning this way and that to make room for her full skirt.
“Ersie said that she would hold a place for ye! Wanted to make sure that ye got a chance!”
“I dinnae want me fortune told!” Ceana attempted to protest, but Peter was having none of it.
“It’s just for fun!” he insisted, pulling her toward one of the smaller tents.
It smelled of syrupy sweet candles and a musky incense that she couldn’t place. But it was somehow welcoming instead of overpowering. A gypsy was sitting at a round table, with a small bowl for coins in front of her. It seemed that she hadn’t had a very busy night.
Small mirrors hung by bits of thread from the canopy. Scarves in bright, pretty colors, embroidered with different types of flowers or small animals, were draped all around them. The table itself was covered in a thick, purple fabric that seemed to shimmer in the lamplight.
The fortune teller was dressed differently than what Ceana was used to, wearing a shirt and trousers like a man, but somehow she had managed to pull the whole thing off in the most feminine fashion. She had kind, wise eyes but a stern mouth. While Ceana was certain that the woman was very good at her trade, the mystics and superstition didn’t appeal to her much.
“I apologize, me braither is very enthusiastic, but I dinnae want?—”
“Sit, lass,” the fortune teller commanded in a firm tone that left no room for argument.
Ceana did as she was told. Standing by the opening of the tent, Ersie pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing at the face that Ceana made.
Peter sat in the chair beside her, and Myrtle promptly jumped up into his lap and curled up into a tight ball. Ceana didn’t think she had ever seen the cat look quite so content before. Usually, he was just near Peter, glaring at anybody and everybody who dared to look at her brother the wrong way.
“What will it be, M’Lady? Palm reading or cards?” the fortune teller asked, already shuffling a deck of tall cards in her hands.
Ceana glanced down at her palms. She had never understood how people could learn anything from looking at her skin and the wrinkles in it. Never mind that her hands were rougher than a proper lady’s hands might be, given that she had worked with them for so many years.
She didn’t understand how people could read things in tea leaves either, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it. It just all felt so impossible. But since she was slightly embarrassed about her hands, and the fortune teller was shuffling the cards anyway, she nodded to the cards.
The fortune teller nodded to the jar in response.
Peter reached into Ceana’s pocket, fished out her coin purse without even asking, and dropped a coin into the bowl with an ear-to-ear smile. Clearly, this was his favorite event of the festival this year. Ceana could hear the loud sounds of arm wrestling, dancing, jolly music, and food sizzling outside. It was wholly overwhelming, so perhaps this was for the best.
She shifted, settling comfortably in her chair. “What am I supposed to do next?”
“Nothing, M’Lady. The cards will tell ye,” the fortune teller said with a crooked smile.
She was beautiful in a way, as if she had lived a very full life and was full of stories. That was what Ceana’s father used to say about the elders in the village. Every wrinkle they had was just another story waiting to be told.
No, now was certainly not the time to think about her father. Not when it was going to make her miss him so much. The last thing her mother needed was another reason to feel sad. And if Ceana started thinking about her father too much, then she wasn’t going to be able to pull herself out of it.
“Now, close yer eyes and try to clear yer head. Think of a bright, white light fillin’ ye up from head to toe,” the fortune teller instructed softly.
Ceana complied. Her shoulders dropped, and she willed the tension to leave her spine. The cards were dealt, and Peter was practically vibrating in the seat next to her. The fortune teller whistled low, and Ceana blinked an eye open to see what it was that she had seen.
“If ye’re goin’ to peek, ye might as well look.” The fortune teller laughed, the sound surrounding them like warm honey.
“What does any of this mean?” Ceana asked, looking over the cards in front of her.
As pretty as they were, they meant almost nothing. The cards were all so intricate-looking, each with a different number and picture, all hand-painted. She couldn’t imagine the patience it took to create something so small yet so detailed.
“Well, this is a very promising fortune, indeed, M’Lady!” The fortune teller picked up the first card. “The King of Cups. It means that ye have married a very kind and passionate man.”
Ceana glanced over at Ersie, knowing that she would agree with her opinion that the Laird was a great many things, but kind was not one of them. Passionate… well, that was yet to be seen.
She shifted in her seat for an entirely different reason, not wishing to discourage the fortune teller.
“The Hierophant,” the fortune teller continued. “It means tradition, marriage, a supportive partnership.”
Peter gasped and clapped softly, distracting his sister.
“And finally, the Two of Cups. It means a deep, lasting love. Have ye just gotten married, M’Lady? Nay children yet?” the fortune teller asked, a knowing gleam in her eyes.
Ceana was tempted to huff and make a few very unladylike comments, but her brother was still here, and that would help nothing at all. It certainly was not a conversation that she wished to have in front of him. She might have had a strong hand in raising him, but those sorts of conversations would fall in her mother’s lap if she had any say in it.
“Aye, recently married. Nay bairn that I ken of.” Ceana smiled tightly.
Neil would have to touch her for that to happen, and he clearly had no interest in doing so until she played his little game. Also not very nice of him. Also not something that she wanted to talk about in front of her little brother.
“I see a strong love match here, ye ken?” the fortune teller continued, nodding to the cards. “Ye are a very lucky lady, indeed.”
Ceana didn’t want to argue with the woman when it was so abundantly clear that she was very wrong. Given that the Laird was insistent on keeping some distance between them, toying with her, it was far from a love match. He didn’t need to love her to have a child with her, neither did she need to love him. He was her husband, that was that. There just wasn’t anything else, no matter how fast her heart raced when he touched her or how flustered he made her with his annoying mouth.
This had to be another trick of some sort, or just another gimmick to get her to pay more coins so that she could ask more questions or have another reading. She knew her own mind, and she knew well enough to know that no one could go and decide her fortune for her save for herself.
She believed in hard work—that was how she made things happen, not by some intervention of fate.
But Peter looked so excited about the whole thing, and far be it for her to make her brother uncomfortable in the slightest. She couldn’t contradict the woman in front of him. But there was also a strangely knowing look in the fortune teller’s eyes, as if she could somehow sense Ceana’s concerns. It was more than a little unnerving.
“Well, thank ye for yer time,” Ceana offered, her face flushing for reasons that she couldn’t even begin to guess, and then hurried out of the tent.