Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The weather had improved slightly by the time they rode off from the castle the following afternoon. The sun was shining at last, hanging low in the wintery afternoon sky.
As Tyra looked back at the castle from the hilltop above the village, its stones glowed gold in the afternoon sunshine, a far cry from the grim, mist-covered grey stones she’d first encountered.
Her heart lifted. She was looking forward to that special time in the company of Isla and Duncan, who were always filled with warmth and good cheer.
And, of course, there would be time with Ewan.
It would be good to see him for once without the burdens of his lairdship, at ease in the inn, among his closest family.
As they clattered into the innyard she feared the bad memories from that terrifying sojourn there might impinge on the pleasantness she was hoping for. But there were a number of horses already in the stables and from the inn came the sound of music and laughter.
As they entered, Malcom hastened to greet them.
There was a merry company in the main parlor and Malcolm escorted them through a side door to a private room.
“There’s a wedding party celebrating here, sire. Later they’re planning a cèilidh, so there’ll be loud music and dancing.” He looked a trifle anxious. “I trust ye’ll nae be disturbed.”
Isla beamed. “A cèilidh. Oh, how marvelous.” She reached a hand to Ewan. “Surely we can join in, and the laird can give his blessing tae the happy couple.”
The innkeeper nodded. “I shall speak wi’ the bridal party. Laird Mackenzie, I ken they will be honored tae be graced wi’ the laird and his family this night. It will make the occasion even more momentous.”
Being scooped up into such a happy event at once drowned out the last whisper of the past terrors Tyra was struggling to resist. That night, there would be new memories made. And, so far, the mood was one of unbridled enjoyment that was like spring rain after the privations of winter.
Two lasses from the kitchen came hurrying over with goblets and a large ewer brimming with red wine. The older of the two filled the glasses and they both scurried back to the busy kitchen.
Malcolm appeared again. “I took the liberty of filling the ewer from one of yer barrels in the cellar when I saw yer party ride intae the yard, Laird Ewan.”
Ewan raised a glass. “Good man. Ye ken me taste.”
“And the wedding party will be greatly honored if ye, yer braither and the ladies would care tae join in the cèilidh.”
They raised their glasses amid numerous toasts to their good health, to the continued good weather, to the safe arrival of the Laird MacNeacail.
After they’d sipped the fine wine, Ewan raised his glass again. “Slainte mhath tae me lovely soon-to-be betrothed, the Lady Tyra MacNeacail.”
A cheer went up, led by Duncan, and they clinked their goblets and drank the toast. Tyra’s cheeks flushed with heat and her heart jumped with unaccustomed happiness.
Malcolm and his two kitchen helpers bustled out with large helpings of fragrant venison pie. They consumed their mouth-watering meal to the accompaniment of music and laughter from the parlor.
The pie was followed by several sweet dishes: spiced clootie and custard, shortbread, almond and honey cakes.
They each groaned in turn as they finished their meal.
“Och. That was delicious, Malcolm. Me cheers tae yer good wife fer her fine effort in the kitchen.
“She will be pleased ye enjoyed yer meal.” He looked around with a smile. “Lassies, lads, are ye ready tae join the festivities in the parlor?”
Ewan rubbed his belly. “I’ll be needing a while tae let me supper settle.” He laughed as they all nodded.
“Very well. Ye will be most welcome whenever ye decide tae make an entrance.”
They sat back, warmed by the roasting fire in the hearth, replete, sipping their wine.
Isla piped up. “Now is the perfect time fer a game of I Dare Ye.” She explained the game to Tyra who was not familiar with it.
“Ye are given the choice of two dares, and ye must take one or the other.”
Duncan groaned and threw up his hands. “Oh nay, sister, last time we played ye had me tied in knots.”
She shook her head, slanting him a wicked chuckle. “Ye should nae have tried the easier dare. Dinnae blame me if ye refused tae dance wi’ the lady.”
He grimaced. “Mayhap dancing wi’ that lady would have been even worse.”
Tyra’s interest was piqued. “This could be fun. I can think of several dares I might ask of some at this very table.”
Isla nodded. “In that case, Tyra MacNeacail, ye shall be the first fer the dare.”
Tyra groaned. “As long as I can be next.” She was already sifting through dares she had in mind for Ewan. Uppermost was to dare him to join her in a reel at the cèilidh.
“So, Lady Tyra. I dare ye… tae…” She waved at the plateful of large bannocks on the table. “…eat a bannock in one mouthful or…”
Tyra eyed the bannocks. “Nay, I could ne’er push one of them inside me mouth without taking a bite.”
“Ye must choose between two dares. Ye eat the bannock whole, or… ye kiss me big braither.”
Ewan guffawed and Tyra threw a peeved look his way.
“Hm.” She mumbled. “Mayhap I could manage the bannock, after all.”
He grinned at her. “Me suggestion lass, is that ye’d dae far better wi’ the second option.” He proffered his cheek. “Unless, of course, ye’d prefer the bannock.”
Isla urged her on. “Oh, come on Tyra. Surely the big beast isn’t too bad?”
Tyra hesitated, then slowly started moving closer.
“I dinnae bite,” Ewan whispered.
Tyra was tingling all over at the sound of his voice. She puckered her lips, but at the last second he moved his head slightly and instead of his cheek, her lips brushed his mouth.
A bolt of lightning travelled through her. It danced around her heart, causing it to flutter alarmingly, then continued to her belly, making it squirm, before then continuing to the place between her thighs where a most disconcerting ache sprang to life.
It was as if the kiss had ignited a fire that scorched right through her body.
Flustered, she cast down her gaze. When she looked up, her eyes locked with his. Ewan’s blue had deepened to indigo and he was regarding her strangely, as if she was a stranger he was seeing for the first time.
“Ye see?” He whispered again.
She turned away her gaze, feeling momentarily as if he could see right to her soul.
“Now,” he said, a quick grin quirking his mouth. “Was that preferable tae stuffing yer mouth wi’ a dried-out bannock.”
She laughed, placing a finger under her chin, appearing to give this serious thought.
“Mayhap. Just about.”
“Somehow I doubt a bannock would have caused ye tae smile so charmingly.”
Her cheeks were burning. “Are ye flirting wi’ me, Laird Ewan.”
“Am I nae permitted tae flirt wi’ me future wife? Is it nae what a courting lad is meant fer?”
“Are ye courting me?” Her tone grew serious. His eyes darkened again and once more she experienced the thrill of lightning, the streak of white-heat rushing through her.
He held out his hand. “Would ye care tae join me in the parlor and be me partner in the wedding cèilidh?”
She took his hand. It was callused, warm, dry, enveloping hers, taking hold of her.
“I would be honored, Laird Ewan.” She smiled up into his midnight gaze, her heart thundering against her rib cage as if attempting to escape.
He led her out of her seat and across the room to the half-open door to the parlor. As soon as they entered the other room, a cheer went up among the assembled guests and the dancing came to a standstill.
An older man wearing a great kilt in the Mackenzie plaid, stepped over. He bowed from the waist.
“Welcome milaird. We are honored tae have ye here as a guest at the wedding of me daughter Janet tae young Alistair MacRae of Kintail.”
The young couple stepped forward. The bride, who was clad in a soft, rose-pink colored wool gown, her dark-brown locks cascading over her shoulders and down her back, smiled shyly and curtsied. The groom, bowed to them both.
She glanced at Ewan. It was clear he was acquainted with both the couple and the bride’s father. And, she had no doubt would ken every one of the Mackenzies at the gathering and a good smattering of the MacRaes also.
He was greeted with smiles all round and raised cups.
“I thank ye all.” He looked around. “But ‘tis time tae return tae yer dancing. I’d be most pleased if me guest and me braither and sister are able tae join wi’ ye?”
There was a shuffling to make room for them on the floor as the fiddle, the bodhran, and the piper began their next tune.
Ewan seized Tyra’s hand and whirled her into the teeming melee of bodies flying in all directions.
There was nothing sedate about this cèilidh.
He danced her up and down and twirled her in circles to the skirl of the bagpipes and the energetic drumbeat, diving headlong into a series of boisterous reels and barn dances, amid excited shouts and yells and a great deal of noisy hooching.
She held his hands, as they swung their bodies together and skipped in lines side by side, spinning in dizzying circles that had them falling against each other, their chests heaving with gleeful laughter.
Finally, breathless, they found a seat together against the wall, followed by Isla and Duncan, who plopped down on the adjacent bench.
Isla yawned. “That was so much fun, but it’s quite worn me out. Will ye excuse me? I am succumbing tae sleep.”
Tyra chuckled. “Me legs can scarcely hold me up, but it was right bonnie dancing.” She glanced at Ewan.
He was smiling, conversing with one of the other guests.
Her body still thrummed from the energetic closeness they’d shared and the way the merriment of the dancing had washed away all the worries and troubles that had been stalking her for so long.
Ewan signaled to the innkeeper who bustled over.
“I believe the ladies are ready fer their rooms.”
Duncan bowed briefly. “Aye. The rooms are ready fer the lasses.” He frowned. “But as ye ken, we’ve only three rooms here. I’ve taken the liberty of seeing tae the room fer ye tae share wi’ yer braither.”
Ewan shrugged. “’Tis fer only one night.” He glanced at Duncan slouched at the end of the nearby bench. “I believe we can share a room fer one night.”
Malcolm turned to Tyra. “May I escort ye and the Lady Isla tae yer rooms?”
She got to her feet as Isla rose, and they followed Malcolm to the stairs where he lit two candles to light their way up the steps.