Chapter Seventeen
Instead of dining in the Great Hall as Eilidh had expected, her parents had arranged for them to dine in private in one of the smaller antechambers that were located near the Great Hall.
Her whole family was in attendance. She had anticipated that Moira and Errol would be at Hartsmoor, since their home was not too far to travel from.
Rory and Alana’s attendance was quite the surprise indeed.
Their home was not close since they both had decided that castle and village life was not for them and built a beautiful home deep in the Highlands.
Eilidh was not for certs if their appearance was a visit that had already been planned or if they had been summoned.
Considering the short notice of her news, she believed it had been scheduled for this time.
If she had paid more attention to family happenings, she probably would have been aware, but she had never paid attention afore, and she did not see herself starting now.
She and Torquil took their seats after her mother and father took theirs. Tension hung heavy in the air as utensils clanked against trenchers, echoing in the silence of the room. No one made eye contact.
Eilidh pushed around the food on her plate. She had lost her appetite, and the thought of supping turned her stomach sour.
As the silence reached deafening heights, Moira spoke. “Did ye have to marry him?” Her tone was soft, but sharp.
“Nay. I didnae have to marry Torquil. I chose to,” Eilidh answered, and she hated the waver in her voice.
The uncertainty it showed her family. And Torquil.
She had chosen to marry him. But she could not stop the thought creeping into her mind that if she had not been forced to make a decision in haste, would she have come to the same answer.
She thinks she would have, but there was that niggling feeling, asking her what if she had not.
Errol was next to speak, bringing up past MacGregor deeds against the Harts.
Once again mentioning the storeroom raids he had alluded to earlier.
It made no sense to Eilidh. He wasn’t here when that had supposedly happened.
Why did he keep harping on it? Eilidh blew out a breath in frustration.
That was not Torquil. He would not do any such thing.
He was a respectful man. Him marrying her should have proved that to them, but obviously it had not.
“Such a move was foolish on yer clan’s part. It could have started a war,” Errol continued.
“Aye,” Alpin chimed in, muttering, “Some wounds doonae heal easy.”
“If ’twas us as ye say, I believe that would have been justification for retaliation. But that didnae happen. Nor was my clan responsible for such an attack. We would have been fools to attempt such an attack.”
Her brothers carried on their conversation as if Torquil had not spoken. As if what he had to say mattered naught. She clenched her fists in her lap, irritated. Her father watched in stony silence, his mouth set in a firm, thin line. Observing. Always observing.
Beside her, Torquil supped silently, aware of every insult thrown his way. Even those disguised as polite conversation. Every so oft, she would feel him stiffen beside her and kenned that what had been said was bothering him.
“As Torquil mentioned earlier,” Eilidh spoke, the need to defend Torquil’s character burning strong, “he isnae his clan. He is an individual. He is an artist, no’ a warrior.
He holds nay bloodlust for the Harts.” She stabbed a piece of roasted meat and took a bite, instantly regretting it as it sat heavy in her stomach.
She pushed her plate away and emptied her cup of ale.
Morven raised a brow, amused that she had finally spoken up. Unfortunately, her brethren did not get the hint and continued their assault.
Torquil’s gaze slid to hers, a small smile playing on his lips. Reminiscent of the times they shared afore all of this had taken place. When they had not a single care in the world aside from themselves. She smiled back.
“Clan antics aside,” Alpin spoke. “The liberties ye have taken with our sister have led to this most unexpected union. Ye cannae possibly believe that shall go unpunished.” His eyes bored into Torquil’s, who returned the look with the same intensity.
Torquil opened his mouth to answer, and Eilidh had had enough.
She pushed back from the table and stood, assessing every member of her family, her hands planted on her hips.
“I am no’ asking ye to love Torquil. I am asking ye to respect me and the decisions I have made.
” She made eye contact with her brothers.
Then her father. Then her mother, who had a small smile of pride on her face.
The room fell silent. No apology was spoken, but no further insults were voiced either.
She sat back down, her back painfully straight.
“I willnae have any more of this nonsense. Aye, I married a MacGregor. But yer fight isnae with Torquil, but Laird MacGregor, if e’en him.
Dinnae drag what may have or havenae happened betwixt us into whate’er ’tis that ye have come to warring words o’er afore.
He was not a part of it. I am no’ a part of it.
We are two musicians who share a love of music and companionship.
” Her eyes roamed from person to person, stunned into silence at her outburst. Something she had never done afore.
Under the table, she felt Torquil’s hand on her thigh, squeezing as he addressed the room.
He cleared his throat afore speaking. “Whilst I appreciate my wife’s defense of my character, I do understand the place from whence yer opinions come.
Our union was sudden. Unexpected. On all of our parts, I will admit.
But dinnae underestimate the strength of Eilidh.
She is an amazing, strong woman. Talented and lovely.
I also understand ye no’ believing I am deserving of yer respect.
Yet,” he added. “But I will prove to ye that I am. In the meantime, I willnae have ye disrespecting her. She doesnae deserve it.”
He pushed away from the table and held out his hand to Eilidh. Watching the shocked expressions on her family’s faces, she also noticed a flicker of respect. She accepted his hand and they left the antechamber and retired to her bedchamber for the night. She’d had enough family time for this eve.
She shut the door and walked into Torquil’s waiting arms, burying her face in his chest, as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
Strong sobs overtook her, making her chest heave as she fisted the cloth of his tunic.
He didn’t tell her to stop crying. Instead, he held on, rubbing her back comfortingly.
“I dinnae ken if I did the right thing,” she finally said, once she had gained control over her sobs. Her voice shook with emotion.
Torquil squeezed her tighter, kissing the top of her head gently, as he had done so many times afore. “Ye did, Firebrand. Ye were so strong. So much so I dinnae ken if I am deserving of this warrior I hold in my arms.”
She laughed with a sniffle. “Ye are too kind.”
“Nay,” he said. “I only speak the truth. Ye did the right thing, and I appreciate ye taking my defense. Believe me, when I say that I will spend e’ery day proving that ye did the right thing.
” He took a deep breath, his chest expanding under her cheek.
“Life has a funny way of moving forward sometimes. Our path isnae always a straight line, sometimes it is rife with twisty turns and bends. That is the path we were given, and I willnae have it any other way.”
Eilidh hugged him tighter, soothed at the words Torquil spoke. Hope for their future blooming in her chest for the first time since Fergus had appeared at Torquil’s cottage.