Chapter Fourteen
Alana hated the silence that had settled betwixt her and Rory. For reasons unkenned to her their arguments really bothered her. They shouldn’t. He was naught to her.
It was a lie.
But one that she didn’t want to admit.
He shouldn’t mean aught to her. If she would use her head instead of her feelings, she’d push him away.
The smart thing to do would keep him at arm’s length.
But it was hard. So hard to do. Even moreso now that she kenned her future husband, Michael, as she had learned from Rory, was short of temper and even shorter with kindness.
What would it mean to her or to Rory to admit that he was starting to mean something to her? Naught could be done about it. No good would come of it. Alana needed to let those feelings go. She needed to forget they existed, no matter how hard that would to be.
They broke their fast that morning on crusty bread and berries Rory had foraged. Silently, they continued on their journey and they had not spoken a word yet. The silence was driving her mad. She couldn’t take it anymore and finally gave in, starting a conversation.
“What are the local customs that ye partake in up here in the Highlands?” She asked as a way to break the silence and hoped that it was a topic that Rory could speak on for a long time. She just wanted to hear his voice as he spoke about something that he loved.
He shrugged. “We have many, I suppose. The Beltane fires in the spring. Those are always a great reason to gather and celebrate. Do ye have them in the lowlands?”
She shook her head. “Mayhap others do, but we didnae celebrate Beltane at Auchenford.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. Lips that had kissed her so passionately only a couple of nights ago. Without thinking, she brought her fingers to her lips. It was wrong that she wanted to feel his lips upon hers again. But she couldn’t stop the thought from constantly popping into her mind.
“I would think that the MacDonell celebrate them, but I make no promises.”
Her heart sank at the mention of her future husband. She didn’t want to think about him. The dread that had settled in her stomach was growing with each step closer they got to Caer Rannoch, and she only wanted to think of happy things.
“There are also lots of ceilidhs. Each clan will have them for whate’er reason. Though I am for certs ye have those down in the lowlands.”
“Aye. I have attended a few.”
“They are big affairs here. The clanfolk all gather and my ma and da make sure to host a grand meal. After e’eryone has filled their bellies with delicious food, the music starts and dancing ensues—with lots of drink, of course.
” He wiggled his eyebrows, the gesture immediately lightening the mood.
“There is always lots of drink on those nights.”
She smiled. She couldn’t help it. “They sound like a grand time.” She wished her parents had hosted such grandiose gatherings.
“Och, they are. Ye should—” He caught himself and didn’t finish the sentence, though both of them kenned what he was going to say. If only she could. If only their circumstances were different.
“But, some of our get-togethers are for serious matters,” he said, quickly changing the subject so neither of them lingered on things they had no control over.
She stepped over a fallen log, carefully maneuvering so she didn’t trip. “Such as?”
“When we gather for the honor oaths. Sometimes those are somber affairs, but no’ always.”
“Is that when a new laird is sworn in?” Alana’s father had been laird since afore she was born, so she had never had the chance to attend an oath ceremony.
“Aye. Not always. Sometimes ’tis when a clansman has turned his back on one clan to swear loyalty to another. Or when clans combine or enter into a partnership. There are many reasons.”
“Have ye attended many?”
Rory shrugged. “A few. The most recent was when my younger sister married, and she and her husband were gifted a parcel of land, and he received his title.”
She realized he had mentioned his sisters and brother a few times but had not really spoken about them. Alana found herself wanting to ken more about them. But not only them individually, but them as a whole family.
“Was yer sister the first of yer siblings to marry?”
He frowned. “Aye. She took us all by surprise by falling in love with our enemy.”
Alana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yer enemy? Really?”
He sighed. “Aye, but I must admit that her husband treats her verra weel. He loves her truly and deeply, and she the same. It just took us some time to get used to the idea of which clan he belonged to. We had spent many years sparring back and forth. But they’re coming together also brought our clans together and healed some deep-set wounds from generations past.”
“It sounds like it worked out weel for ye all in the end, then, aye?”
Rory nodded his head. “It did indeed. Come, this way.” He left the somewhat worn path they had been following and moved deeper into the woods.
“Where are ye going?”
“’Tis just o’er here a ways.” He turned and paused when he saw her hesitation.
“’Tis naught to be afraid of. I promise ye, ye will love it when ye see.
” He wiggled his eyebrows as he had done earlier, and gave her that genuine smile of his, and she couldn’t help but feel a sort of excitement about wherever it was he was leading them.
Through the trees, the land opened up into a craggy meadow. But not just any meadow. Alana looked around in awe at the stones standing afore her.
There must have been at least twelve of them, standing tall against the backdrop of the trees. She approached them, reaching out her hand to run her fingers along them.
“Take care, Bluebell. Legend has it that if ye touch the stone and ye have the power, ye will disappear.”
Her eyes widened and then she pursed her lips together when he couldn’t contain his chuckle any longer. “I was going to ask ye if it were the fae again, but now I ken ye jest.”
“I do. Ye make it so easy,” he teased, a smile softening the harsh features of his handsome face. He lifted his shoulders and held his palms up. “It could be true, I suppose, though I have ne’er seen it happen to anyone I ken. But ye can ne’er be for certs what the fae will do.”
“Who really built these? And dinnae say the fae,” she warned, narrowing her eyes and pointing her finger at him.
“No one kens. These stones have been here long afore we e’er walked the land. Mayhap they were formed this way.”
She thought about what he’d said. The arrangement of the rocks was much too specific to have been done naturally. Nay. The rocks were placed in the order they were by man. Or the fae. She giggled. Now Rory was having her think of fae and their possibilities.
“What are ye laughing at?”
“I was only thinking aboot who could arrange the rocks in such a way. They’re massive and it would take a great feat to set them so. The fae came to mind.” She lifted her brow and waited for his reaction. She was not disappointed.
Rory threw his head back and laughed loudly. “See? Now we are thinking alike.” He walked to the other side of the standing stones and bent to the ground. “Look at these.”
Alana walked over to where he pointed. Rocks were stacked one on top of the other. The stack was nearly to her knee. “What are those?” She asked, fascinated.
“Rock cairns. A sign of remembrance for a loved one.”
“Why would it be by the standing stones? Mayhap someone did get lost by going through the stones. The cairn could be the family’s tribute to their long-lost loved one.”
“I dinnae—” Rory stopped when he saw the smile on her face. “Och, so this time ye jest.” He smiled, and his eyes danced brightly. “Ye catch on quickly.” He grasped her hand, and that familiar heat radiated through her palm and up her arm at his touch. She should pull away, but she didn’t.
“We need to get back on the trail.” He tugged her back toward where they had entered the trees. “We will pass another sight soon. I believe ye will like it.”
Rory couldn’t have been more right in his statement. After walking for some time, they came upon a ruined stone kirk. The old stone was bleached white from the sun, the surface smooth from the harsh Highland weather. Alana ran her fingers along the surface.
“There were many a handfasting ceremony held here. Not so much anymore, but there used to be. Ye could pick the wildflowers from the surrounding ground. Take a ribbon or a scarf and swear yer love to one another.”
Alana kept walking along the long wall of the chapel, her thoughts wandering. “Were they forced unions?”
Rory laughed and shook his head. “Nay, no’ in the least. These ceremonies were aught but forced. They were true love matches. One where they chose for themselves.”
She snapped her head to Rory. “By their own choice? No one making any demands of them?”
“Completely their own choice.” He came up beside her, standing so close that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, seeping into hers. “Sometimes without their family’s kenning.”
Her eyes lingered on his. How she wished she could make such a decision on her own.
She would choose to participate in a handfasting ceremony.
With someone that she loved and wanted to build a future with.
Someone kind and loving that would give her many children and in turn would love those children as much as she did.
She wet her lips and watched Rory’s gaze track down to her lips afore raising and meeting hers again. Was he thinking the same thing?
A falcon screeched in the distance and broke the bond that had been building betwixt them.
“Love is really a choice here?” Alana asked, bewildered.
Rory nodded. “Aye, it always has been.”
She sighed, wishing that were the case within her own family.
The rest of the day’s trip was uneventful, and Alana was exhausted by the time they said their good nights over the flames on opposite sides of the fire.
She found she enjoyed the nights much more when they slept close together.
She felt safer. Protected. Would she feel the same way sleeping beside her future husband?
It saddened her that she didn’t think she would.
Dreams overtook Alana that night. Happy dreams that she didn’t want to wake up from.
She dreamt of a life free from the duty of her family—one where she could choose her own husband—and she had.
Rory sat on the side of a heather covered knoll and watched as Alana ran barefoot through the flowers.
Her hair flowing loosely behind her. Her cheeks flushed with excitement.
She was free. More free than she had ever felt in all her years.
She collapsed beside Rory, breathing heavily as he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her deeply, lowering her onto a flowery bed.
She woke on a sigh. Then remembered where she was and the situation she was in. She wanted to fall back asleep so she could experience her dream once again. But she could not. Just as she could not indulge her thoughts of Rory.
One thing was for certs, she was beginning to think, for the first time in her life, that her happiness was more important than her duty.
Immediately, she felt guilty for harboring such thoughts.
They went against everything that had been told to her about her responsibility to her family.
To her clan. But she couldn’t help them.
As they walked closer to the destination that would change her life forever, she studied Rory’s profile. His strong jaw, his beautiful green eyes, the long lashes that fanned his cheeks with every blink. She realized she didn’t want their journey to end.
Because the ending meant goodbye.
And she didn’t think she would be able to say goodbye to Rory Hart.
Not now. Not ever.