Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
C atherine walked into the dining hall a few evening later. The banquet tables were laden with sumptuous food, a feast that seemed to stretch the length of the hall. Platters of seafood from the Sea of Hebrides had been brought in for this special occasion. Crabs, clams, and mussels mingled with the freshest catch from the nearby loch. Catherine had learned that the chief, Cam MacDonald had sent some of his men to barter with some fishermen on the coast to bring the best they could find to welcome her to Fort Donald. It was nice gesture, and she was touched by it.
Aside from the seafood there was also roasted game hen and a medley of colorful vegetables gracing the platters, accompanied by hearty meat pies as well as haggis. The scent of spices mingled with the smoky aroma of roasted meats, created an intoxicating symphony of flavors. There was also plenty of whisky, ale, and mead wines to partake of.
In the corner of the hall, the quartet of musicians plucked the strings of their instruments, their melody weaving through the air like a gentle breeze. The music added a touch of magic to the ambiance, as laughter and lively conversations filled the spaces of the room.
Cam MacDonald, his presence exuding a quiet intensity, sat next to his wife, Jennifer at the head table. Her connection with Cam was evident in the subtle glances they exchanged and the secret smiles between them. Catherine had been introduced to them both upon her arrival, but she’d not spent much time in their company as they were both very busy. Cam with being the head of the family and Jen with training the guard and anyone else who wanted to learn in the martial arts.
As the feast continued and laughter echoed off the stone walls, Catherine's senses were overwhelmed by the richness of the experience. The blend of flavors, the melodies of the music, and the camaraderie of the clan members all painted a picture of life in this era and she marveled at it. To be a part of it was an experience she’d never forget. And as the night wore on, she found herself swept away by the magic of the moment as she became a part of the Donald Clan’s history.
The conversation flowed easily as everyone exchanged stories and enjoyed the variety of foods spread before them. The seafood's delicate taste, the richness of the meat pies, and the earthy goodness of the haggis were all revelations to Catherine's palate. The only thing missing in her mind, was Eamon. He’d been sent out on a mission, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be back in time to enjoy this evening with her.
"Back our time, we had nothing quite like this," Catherine admitted, savoring a bite of roasted game hen.
Mae nodded, taking a sip of her mead wine. "Yeah, it's a different world here, to be sure."
Catherine’s gaze traveled over to the musicians. “They’re very good. You didn’t tell me that Niall played the harp.”
“He’s got very nimble fingers, doesn’t he?” Mae grinned, taking a bite of her crab.
“I’ll take your word for that,” Catherine said, giggling.
“So where is Eamon this evening? I can’t believe he’s missing your welcome feast. He’s the one who told Cam he should send some men to barter with the fishermen on the coast. Do you know how rare it is for us to be able to do that?” Mae shook her head.
“This was Eamon’s idea?” Catherine asked in surprise.
Mae nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Yes, which is why it’s strange he’s not here for it.”
“When he left a couple of days ago, he said he’d be back for the feast, but maybe he got caught up in something?”
“Possibly. There has been some trouble lately, since before you arrived that I know the men have been dealing with.”
“It’s not dangerous, is it? This trouble?”
“It can be. Depends on what those thugs have been up to. Hopefully, it’s just something easily taken care of that has delayed them.”
“I hope that’s the case,” Catherine agreed, but she couldn’t help but worry.
An hour later, there was a ruckus in the hallway and a moment later, in walked Eamon, his presence commanding everyone’s attention. A cheer went up from everyone upon seeing them, mugs of whisky and ale raised in salute to the men who’d returned.
Catherine's heart quickened at the sight of him, her gaze fixed on his face and vibrant green eyes. She watched as he acknowledged the cheers with an assured nod.
Beside her, Mae said, "Hey look who's back from the wilds."
Catherine's eyes followed Eamon as he strode deeper into the room, heading for the head table and to Cam.
Catherine's gaze remained fixed on Eamon as he engaged in conversation with the Chief, his manner confident. She couldn’t hear what was said, but she watched as their interaction played out, a silent observer of their world. It was obvious that Eamon was giving a report on his patrols.
As the conversation concluded, Eamon moved to a nearby table, filling his plate with hearty fare and pouring himself a mug of ale. Catherine couldn't help but notice the ease with which he carried himself, the way his rugged features seemed to come alive in the flickering torchlight as he made his way toward her.
Eamon's smile widened as he reached her. “Mind if I join you, lass?”
“I’d like that,” she said as he settled beside her on the bench. The clatter of plates and the hum of conversation surrounded them.
“Welcome back, Eamon, now if the two of you will excuse me, I’m going to go track down my husband,” Mae said, getting up from the table with a grin.
Catherine and Eamon both watched her go and then turned back to each other. "How was the patrol?" Catherine asked.
"Eh, just the usual troublemakers," Eamon replied, his voice a rich baritone that resonated through her. “Malcolm MacDonald being a pain in the backside.”
“He’s a MacDonald? Is he part of the clan?”
“Used to be,” Eamon said. He explained that Malcolm wasn’t happy when Cam was chosen to lead the clan over him.
“I see.”
"Ever since, Malcolm has been a thorn in Cam's side, and aye, he's been a pain for all of us for quite some time, even before he left," Eamon explained, his eyes holding a mixture of frustration and determination. "He's a snake, that one, always scheming."
Catherine leaned in, her brow furrowing. "What has he done?"
Eamon detailed Malcolm's attempts to undermine Cam's leadership before he took himself off, the tension palpable in every word. Catherine found herself drawn into the tale, captivated by the layers of intrigue and conflict of the story.
Catherine had never imagined and it was possibly more dangerous living here in this time period than she had thought. Her curiosity about the situation burned brighter with every word that flowed from Eamon's lips. She leaned in closer, as if drawn by an invisible force, captivated by the tale that he was weaving.
"But why have you all been searching for Malcolm?" she pressed, her gaze locked with Eamon's. “Has he made some recent threat?”
Eamon met her gaze. "Nae, lass, not a recent one," he said, his voice a deep rumble that sent a thrill through her. "Though, there's fear that he's not done with his schemes, as we’ve had word that he’s returned to the area, perhaps with mercenaries or bandits by his side."
Catherine's mind raced, trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "Could it all be rumors, though?"
Eamon's expression grew serious. "Nay, lass. Aine has foretold of his return. Given the treacherous acts he committed before, we cannae afford to dismiss the warning."
“Who is Aine and what do you mean she foretold of his return? She can see the future?” Catherine questioned.
“Aye, lass. Aine is one of the Fae. She lives on the small islands in Loch Ballygrant. She had divinity abilities and has been a tremendous help to Clan Donald.”
Catherine blinked at him as he spoke so casually of another Fae person. “You mean there’s another Fae who could help me get home?”
Eamon’s face fell and he looked down at his plate. “Do you wish to leave already?”
Taken aback by his question and the devastated expression on his face, Catherine back tracked. “No, not really. At least not right now, but is it possible?”
He shook his head. “Nae, lass, tis not. She doesn’t have that kind of power. Her skills are in divination and herbology. She’s a healer.”
"I see," Catherine said, a strange feeling of relief filling her. She wasn’t ready to go home, not yet, and the longer she stayed here, the more she didn’t want to leave. Her question had actually been more out of curiosity than anything else. "It's just so different from what I know. In my world the Fae are mythical, at least that is what the majority of people believe."
Eamon's gaze softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Aye, I can imagine it's a lot to take in. Our ways and those of the Fae are likely strange to you."
Catherine's heart skipped a beat at his words, her cheeks warming under his gaze. "I... I'm still trying to grasp it all."
Eamon's tone grew gentler. "You'll find your way, lass. I'll be here to help you." His hand grazed hers and she felt a heat ignite inside of her.
After the festivities, Eamon walked Catherine to her bedchamber. Catherine's heart raced within her chest as she felt Eamon's hand brush against hers. She stole a glance at him, her breath catching as their eyes met. There was something about the way he looked at her with warmth that made her pulse quicken. It was an intense look that set her skin on fire.
Catherine found herself drawn into Eamon's presence, her senses heightened by his proximity, and she couldn’t help but to link her hand with his. His gaze found hers once more, this time even more heated. She felt her heart flutter at the look he was giving her. His fingers wrapped around hers more securely and she didn’t want him to ever let go.
As they reached the door to her bedchamber, time seemed to stand still for a moment. He continued to hold her hand as they stood there watching each other. Catherine wanted to invite him in, but knew it was too soon. If she were back home, she wouldn’t think twice but doing something like that here and now… it might get her into trouble she couldn’t handle. Holding his hand was going to have to do for now.
"Good night, lass," Eamon said softly, his voice a husky murmur that sent shivers down her spine. "I've found joy in your company since your arrival. I am glad Dub Sith has brought you to us."
Catherine's heart swelled with happiness and a touch of uncertainty. Did he mean himself or everyone? Did he feel the same as she did? She wasn’t sure. "I am too," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper, hoping he meant himself and not everyone there. Feeling brave, she continued, "Having you to talk to, to share this strange journey with... it's been thrilling."
As if guided by an invisible force, Eamon leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender but hesitant kiss.
Time seemed to stand still as their lips met, a gentle and lingering connection that spoke volumes. Catherine leaned forward more and pressed her lips more firmly to his, enjoying the moment and the way her skin seemed to flame at his touch. And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended, leaving Catherine breathless and her heart pounding.
Eamon stepped back, his eyes still locked with hers. "Rest well, Catherine," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to her racing heart as he let her hand go.
With a final lingering look, he turned and walked away, his footsteps on the stone floor fading into the distance. Catherine stood there, her heart a whirlwind of emotions, her bedchamber door a threshold between the reality she had known and the uncharted territory that lay ahead.