Chapter 16 #2
“I am so dreadfully sorry. I will say that the clan’s mistrust of me makes that much more sense now. They had been disappointed by an Englishwoman for years. I can see now why I have had my work so cut out for me.”
“Aye, lass. It is the importance of the cèilidh, ye see? They must be able to see ye, to ken ye, as yer own person. Nae as a repetition of the woman who dinnae tend to their needs as she should have.”
Rose reached out and rested her hand on Dominik’s, meeting his gaze with sympathy and determination, saying. “I understand. Truly.”
Following the meal, Dominik stood once more, taking Rose’s hand and leading her around the table to stand in front of the clan. She shook in his grip. She knew it, but Rose maintained her composure, keeping her spine straight, her chin raised high.
“As a part of our grand future, I have at last taken a bride. I present to all ye here, our bonny clan assembled in our home, to meet Rose Kane, Lady of Clan MacKay!”
While tensions still hung in the room, they were severely lessened, and Rose relaxed a bit.
Word of her working the fields with the livestock, of her work arranging this cèilidh, and the time she had spent greeting and socializing with the guests that had arrived in the days prior had showcased who she truly was.
She would put in the effort for this clan, for her clan.
Dominik put his hand on the small of her back, urging her to step forward.
Rose knew she would have a moment to speak.
They had discussed this, but her heart hammered against her ribs, the terror lacing her blood like wine.
But she would remain resolute. These were her people.
She was a Scottish Lady now, and Rose would prove it to everyone, even herself.
“Clan MacKay,” she began, doing her utmost to keep her voice strong, “it is with pride and gratitude that I stand before you. Since arriving in this bonny land, I have been utterly awed by the sights of not only your glorious Highlands but also by those of your glorious people. I hold your lives here in the highest regard, and I vow to do all that is in my power to keep this clan hearty and strong. Slàinte mhath!”
An uproarious cheer boomed through the room, filling Rose’s heart to the brim.
She smiled from ear to ear, lifting her glass high and taking a mighty gulp.
A cough still escaped her, but a well-placed grin and an admission that Scottish whisky was far superior to what she had drank in England smoothed it over, clanspeople laughing around her.
As the room calmed down and the fiddlers struck up the music once more, people began to clear to the side so that the staff could remove the dishes and arrange the tables for the storytelling and song that would come next.
Rose happily greeted those who approached her or offered a smile and did her best to avoid dwelling on the stern faces of a handful of councilmen.
“Pay no mind to them, lass. I’ve yet to win over those bastards, and I grew up with them.”
Rose shook her head with a grin, appreciating Dominik’s words. He’d remained by her side, a steady presence through everything since the night began. She was genuinely filled with gratitude for all he had done.
“Yes, it appears that they still feel that I am to blame for the poor turn of luck. Though I will admit that I am a bit surprised that such a group of learned individuals would be so beholden to superstition.”
Dominik took Rose to the front row of benches, helped her sit down, and then joined beside her. The other seats behind and around them began to fill with clanspeople, who all whispered their excitement for the entertainment ahead.
“This is Scotland, lass. What ye call superstition is the way of life here. There is clearly some I daenae agree with, but much of who we are is because of our connection to the ancient ways.”
Rose considered that, and she had to admit that she understood the allure. England was a place of history and remarkable tales, but it didn’t hold onto the “Old Ways” like other places did. Something she believed could be quite beautiful, as long as it was not being used to harm others.
“I shall remember that, my laird.” Rose gave Dominik a grin, ducking her chin in a minute nod.
“I ken ye will. Ye’ve done much for the clan and keep during the preparations and the aiding of the animals. Ye can be more than satisfied with yer work.”
Part of Rose knew that it was Dominik’s duty to ensure his keep ran as it should, to provide encouragement and correction when needed. Still, she was touched that he sought to ease her insecurities, that he thought to compliment her at all.
A gentle wash of color fell over the room as the sun dipped behind the hills outside the keep.
The entire Great Hall was bathed in serenity and awe as the poet-singer began to spin his tales of legends past. Dominik explained the pieces that were performed in Gaelic, and when the singer sang in English, Rose listened eagerly, devouring his words.
It was this beautiful, peaceful moment that Rose would treasure for a long while.
But then it was time for the traditional reels, and as easily as the keep had descended into calm, it exploded to life as more ale and wine were poured, and the musicians struck up jaunty tunes.
For much of the beginning dances, Roses simply watched. And she was content to keep it that way for now, but Oskar came up to her after finishing his round about the dance floor, his breath huffing in and out.
“Ye must take to the floor, me Lady. Nay clansman will fully accept ye until we see ye doing the Highland dances.”
Nervous energy prickled inside her, and Rose looked back and forth between Oskar and Dominik.
“It is only that I am not familiar with them. I don’t wish to make a fool of myself or manage to offend someone because I am so dreadful.”
“I will dance with ye, lass.” Dominik offered, extending his hand. “I will be sure that ye daenae make a fool of yerself.”
She could hardly refuse him, and still more, she didn’t want to.
Rose felt more drawn to Dominik than she ever had, and as he walked her to the line of dancers on the floor, her heart pattered against her ribs.
Nervous tension wrung her shoulders, but it wasn’t entirely because she feared embarrassing herself.
In fact, much of it was because of the growing pull toward Dominik.
His hand felt right in hers. Rose felt comfortable against his side.
And she trusted him to lift her and spin her through the steps that did mirror some of the English dances she knew.
The rest of the room floated away as she held Dominik’s stare, both locked into a moment as their steps wove them in and out of the other dancers.
Their deadline was fast approaching, and at this very moment, in this bubble of connection they formed, Rose found herself looking forward to it instead of dreading it.
Something had indeed changed this evening: the moods of the clan, the easy connection between the lady and Laird, and Dominik’s aid and exquisite dancing stirred something heady and potent inside her.
The cèilidh had been an excellent idea, and as the night carried on, Rose found herself dancing with the handsome Laird until the wee hours of the morning, happier than she’d ever been.