Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Before Darragh even opened his eyes that morning, he could feel the buzzing energy of the keep. It had propelled him out of bed and into his kilt and doublet. As soon as he’d stepped into the corridor, he heard the raucous laughter of his guests.
“Seems everyone’s in high spirits,” Ewan observed as he settled into his chair near Darragh’s. He pulled his plate closer, his gaze fixed on the swell of people in the great hall.
“These men look forward to the hunt every year,” Darragh replied, not paying any mind to the boisterous merriment happening in front of him. There was only one person that he wanted to see, and she was notably absent from the table.
She mustnae be interested in the crowds.
“Ach, ye’re right,” Ewan said with a chuckle, his fork scraping against the porcelain of his platter. “I just daenae remember the congregation bein’ so excitable in years prior.”
Darragh sighed, looking down at his mostly finished plate. He picked up a bannock, sliding it through a puddle of gravy. Before biting into the bread, he said, “Clan Fraser has put on this hunt since we were established. We’ve seen rowdier gatherin’s.”
“Maybe ye have seen somethin’ like this before, but I havenae,” Ewan said, stabbing his empty fork in Darragh’s direction.
“Perhaps,” Darragh said, swallowing his mouthful, “everyone’s in a frenzy. The last year was eventful for more than just our clan. I like to think I’m givin’ all of these men a healthy outlet for that energy.”
Ewan chewed thoughtfully, and this time Darragh followed his line of sight.
The fox hunt was more than just a hunt. Old allies were greeting each other while new alliances were forming at the table next to them.
When he was a young boy, his father had impressed upon him the importance of meeting with peers—even the peers he didn’t get along with.
It’s best ye ken the beast to keep it from bitin’ ye.
“Seems ye have a point for everythin’,” his man-at-arms said finally. He leaned forward, looking around their table. “Amelia isnae joinin’ us?”
“I cannae imagine she’d enjoy the atmosphere,” Darragh replied, though her absence made him uneasy.
With all of the uncertainty around Laird Mackenzie and the addition of dozens of men in the keep, he’d feel more settled if he could see that Amelia was well.
“I’ll speak with Mrs. Rowan to ensure the kitchen staff is sendin’ her meals. ”
The doors to the great hall opened, and the wind carried in the sound of horses stamping and snorting in the courtyard.
Ewan grinned at Darragh, looking almost boyish in his own excitement, the concern for anything but the upcoming festivities melting away.
He didn’t even notice when Darragh rolled his eyes at the behavior.
As if overeager to leave, he began eating faster, almost savagely.
His ferocity is still nae as strong as Amelia’s. I danae think I will ever see anyone eat with so much gusto.
“It’s nearly time for ye to oversee preparations,” Darragh said, deciding it was best to dismiss Ewan. He needed the excitement of the event just as much as their guests. “I will join ye shortly.”
“Daenae spend too long mopin’ about,” Ewan urged, wiping his mouth with one of the new linens Amelia had painstakingly inventoried. He set it to the side as he pushed his chair back from the table. “Even if ye’re the host, that doesnae mean ye’re nae allowed to enjoy yerself.”
“Would ye get out of here before I find ye a real job to take care of?” Darragh countered, carefully keeping his expression serious.
Ewan frowned, taking a step back. “Ye wouldane.”
“Daenae test me, Ewan,” Darragh said, brushing him off with a wave of his hand. “If you happen to run into Mrs. Rowan, tell her that I’d like to speak with her.”
“Aye, Me Laird,” Ewan agreed, overly formal. It was a sure sign that, regardless of whether he thought Darragh was being serious or not, he wasn’t willing to risk being away from the action for even a moment.
Darragh watched as Ewan wove through the crowd, stopping to shake hands and exchange pleasantries every few tables. It was a relief to have a man as sociable as Ewan at his side. His charisma was enough to leave an excellent impression of Clan Fraser on anyone he spoke with.
After spending longer than entirely necessary finishing his meal, Darragh stood.
For a moment, he stared at the chair that had come to be Amelia’s.
It wasn’t as if this were the first time she’d missed breaking her fast, but more often than not, she would make an appearance.
And perhaps he’d grown used to seeing her at the beginning of his days.
He intended to check in with her and give her a schedule of things to expect. Now, her absence niggled at him like a loose thread. His own day was far too busy to track her down, though.
I ken she’ll be safe so long as she’s in the keep.
Leaving the great hall was surprisingly easy. The last of the lairds who were lingering at their tables were too enthralled by their gruff conversations to pay him any mind. When he stepped into the corridor, he felt as though fate had blessed him.
She’s nae Amelia, but there’s nae one I trust more.
“Mrs. Rowan,” Darragh called, his voice a controlled boom above the noise in the castle.
As expected, the chatter ceased just long enough for the older healer to acknowledge him and begin her shuffle across the floor.
Everyone was far too preoccupied with the sharp excitement of the hunt that was yet to begin.
If he wasn’t announcing something related to the hunt or giving a direct order, they weren’t inclined to stick around.
“I hope everythin’ is well, Me Laird,” she said, tucking herself out of the way of two men rushing past them. “It’s a wee bit rambunctious, aye?”
“It’s to be expected,” he said, taking a step back to guide her out of the footpath. “Let them tire themselves out huntin’ foxes and deer if they can find them. Let them make fun of me for explicitly tellin’ them they’re nae allowed to fire at any white does.”
“Aye, I suppose that patience is the solution here,” she said, more than a bit amused. Her expression turned serious then, her eyes locking onto his. “What is it ye wanted to speak with me about? I’m sure ye daenae have time to be standin’ around chattin’.”
“Amelia wasnae at breakfast.” Darragh looked away from her as he spoke, feeling as if he was relaying more than just the information. “I need ye to ensure that her injuries arenae botherin’ her and see to it that she’s fed if she’s nae in the condition to dine in the great hall.”
When he returned his gaze to Mrs. Rowan, she was struggling to conceal what looked like a smirk. For his own sanity, he left it alone, watching her expectantly. He didn’t have time to engage in this little game today.
“From Isla’s latest report, Amelia’s ribs are healing excellently. Unless she’s done somethin’ unreasonable, I danae think ye need to be concerned with her injuries, Me Laird,” she said finally, her hands coming to rest on her hips.
“I cannae say that I’ve met a more unreasonable person in me life,” he said, though he couldn’t stop the warmth from bleeding through. “Me concern is nae unfounded.”
Mrs. Rowan studied him for a moment, the amusement melting away.
The look on her face reminded him of the way she’d gaze upon him when he was a reckless, angry teenager.
It faded just a bit as she said, “Ach, I suppose ye’re right.
I will look after Amelia. Ye try to enjoy yerself as much as ye can. ”
For a beat, Darragh was transported to when he’d taken lairdship.
Mrs. Rowan was younger then, newly hired as the healer at Fraser Keep.
Her care was no-nonsense, practical in its support.
Back then, she’d given him space to grow into his own man, only giving guidance when it was deemed absolutely necessary.
She’s holdin’ her tongue. If it werenae for the hunt, she’d say somethin’ else.
“I will try to keep ye from gettin’ too busy,” he said, taking a step away.
“Ach, it’s nae the grand hunt if I daenae treat an injury that was inflicted because of mindless posturin’,” she said with a tinge of humor. “But I appreciate the thought, Darragh.”
* * *
“Pardon me, miss.”
Amelia jumped, sucking in a harsh breath as she jumped out of the way.
Carefully, she positioned herself at the edge of the chaos, giving herself enough room to watch without the chance of being knocked to the ground by a man too absorbed in the jovial energy of the hunt to pay attention to his surroundings.
It was as busy as she expected, though she hadn’t anticipated her own reactions.
A servant rushed past her, carrying a basket overflowing with bread, cured meats, and what Amelia could only assume were flasks of whiskey for the riders.
She took another measured step back, watching the scene unfold with quiet attention.
From the window behind her, men’s laughter filtered in.
She thought she heard the squeal of leather tightening, and she caught the distinct scent of horsehair.
Were these events always so loud?
“Ach, Laird Fraser calls it the fox hunt so he doesnae hurt the egos of men who cannae take down a stag,” a laird Amelia didn’t recognize boasted as he walked by.
He was keeping his pace intentionally slow, holding the attention of a younger maid who looked a bit overwhelmed.
“But I will be bringin’ in the biggest stag out of any of the men here. I’ve done it for the last…”
His voice was swallowed by the drone of the crowd as the two passed Amelia by.
She stayed in place for another beat before shaking her head and slipping into the flow of foot traffic.
Instead of going toward the great hall, she chose the sanctuary that was the kitchens.
Besides, she’d successfully avoided mealtime.
If there was any food left, the staff would already be storing it.