Chapter Five
Cailean’s instinct had proven to be correct when he’d thought the great hall would be busy tonight. In fact, busy was not the word. Packed to the rafters would be a more apt description.
Word of the arrival of a MacFinnan spellweaver had spread across the island like wildfire and everyone it seemed, from toothless old grannies to rough-mannered sheep farmers, suddenly had business in Dun Mallach.
Every bench was full, every table laden with food, and the great hall echoed with the clamor of excited chatter, good-natured banter, and the occasional argument. He had not seen the great hall so busy in years, nor his people so full of excitement.
He glanced to his left where the source of that excitement was sitting.
Rose MacFinnan was listening patiently as Catriona kept up an endless stream of chatter about things that a nine-year-old found extremely important.
The dressmaker’s cat was about to have kittens.
A lad down in the village had given her a bouquet of daisies.
The hilarity when Malcolm Tanner had fallen in the river and had to be rescued by his da.
Rose listened to it with infinite patience, exclaiming in all the right places and sharing Catriona’s outrage that Malcolm Tanner had accused her of pushing him in the river. Cailean suspected there might be a bit of truth in that.
Catriona had taken to Rose immediately, seeming not the least intimidated by the fact that she was a terrifying MacFinnan spellweaver out of legend.
The same could not be said of his people. Just as he’d warned her, they’d gawped when he’d introduced her and even now covert glances kept being aimed in her direction. If she was bothered by it all, she didn’t let it show.
A small black nose suddenly appeared from beneath the table and Patch darted out, snaffled a bit of chicken that Catriona held out for him, then darted back under the table.
“Catriona,” Cailean said, turning a stern gaze on his daughter. “What have I told ye about feeding that dog at the table?”
She had the decency to look abashed. “I tried to leave him in my room, Da, but he kept crying and scratching at the door.”
“That’s because ye are treating him like a bairn and not a dog. Why canna he live in the kennels like all the other hounds?”
Catriona looked mortified. “Because he wouldnae like it! He’d cry all night! If ye make Patch sleep in the kennels, then so will I!”
Cailean rolled his eyes. She did have a flair for the dramatic. “He’s a dog. He would probably love it in the kennels with his own kind.”
But Catriona was having none of it. She turned to Rose. “Tell him, Lady Rose! Ye know that Patch would hate sleeping in the kennels, dinna ye?”
Rose held up her hands. “Whoa! Leave me out of this one. I’m not stupid enough to get involved in an argument between father and daughter. Although…”
She reached down and scratched Patch’s ears and the pup went up onto his hind legs with his front paws in her lap, tongue lolling out of his mouth in ecstasy. “He might get bullied by the older dogs, and I’m sure he would miss Catriona.”
Catriona turned to face Cailean with a smug expression of triumph on her face, as though the word of a MacFinnan spellweaver settled the argument.
Oh, wonderful. Just what he needed. Winning an argument with his daughter was hard enough; it would be doubly hard now she had an unexpected ally.
“We’ll discuss this another time,” he growled but Catriona only grinned, knowing she’d won this battle.
He sighed and took another swig of ale. For the thousandth time, he wished Mary was still here.
He missed her with an ache that never seemed to lessen, no matter the time that passed.
She would have known how to handle Catriona’s demands.
Mary had always been better at standing up to her than he had and had teased him mercilessly at how easily their daughter was able to twist him around her little finger.
Over on the left side of the hall, his warriors were crowded around their table, drinking and singing and bantering the way they always did.
He wished he could join them. He wished he could get blind drunk with them like he’d done when his father was still the laird and he didn’t have the responsibilities he carried now.
He wished that, just for an evening, he could forget the cares that hung around his neck like a mill stone and relax.
Rose suddenly yawned hugely, making Catriona giggle.
“Oops,” Rose said. “I think it’s time I went to bed. If I stay up any longer, I think I’ll end up face-first in this pie.”
Cailean waved Mable over. “Escort the lady Rose to her room, would ye?”
As Rose scraped her chair back and followed Mable out, Cailean couldn’t help watching her go. Watching the way her midnight hair cascaded down her back. The way her hips moved as she walked.
“I like her,” Catriona announced, breaking him from his thoughts. “She’s nice.” She pressed her hand against her mouth, suppressing a yawn.
“Aye,” Cailean said. “Perhaps she is, but she willnae be the only one with her face in her pie if ye dinna get to bed soon. It’s way past yer bed time.”
“But I’m not tired, Papa,” Catriona protested. Another huge yawn cracked her face, putting the lie to those words.
“Come,” he said, pushing his chair back. “Bed. I’ll take ye.”
With a huff, Catriona hopped down from her seat, and took the hand Cailean held out to her. Ella, Catriona’s maid, came forward, but Cailean waved her back and told her to stay and enjoy the feast—he would take his daughter up to bed tonight.
With Patch trotting along at their heels, they left the great hall, made their way through the keep and then up the main staircase. Catriona’s feet began to drag with tiredness so he hoisted her into his arms and carried her, and for a wonder, she made no complaint.
Catriona’s chambers were next to his own where he could keep a better eye on her, and as he nudged the door open, a wave of warmth hit him from the fire that burned merrily in the fireplace.
Patch jumped onto the bed, turned in a circle a few times, then settled down with his head resting on his paws. Cailean resisted the urge to order him off. Catriona would have him back on the bed the second he was out of the room, anyway.
He gently lowered Catriona onto the bed and then sat down on the end of it. “Make sure ye brush yer teeth before ye go to sleep and change into yer nightgown.”
She rolled her eyes at him in an imitation of Mary that was so accurate it made his chest ache. “Papa, I do know. I am nine, ye know.”
He smiled, feeling a sudden rush of love for his girl. “Aye, ye are growing up, my little lass. Ye will be an adult before I know it.”
Catriona made a face. “Ugh. I hope not. Adults are so dull.”
Cailean laughed. “Aye, perhaps we are.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Catriona.”
“Good night, Papa.”
He opened the door but then paused as Catriona said, “Papa? Is Rose going to stay?”
“Nay, sweetling,” he replied, looking back at her. “She’s come to help us but then she needs to go home.”
“Oh.” She sounded sad at that. “I’d like it if she stayed.”
“Well, she canna. She’s got her own family to get back to.”
“What family?”
Cailean realized he had absolutely no idea. He knew next to nothing about their guest. “Enough questions,” he replied. “Go to sleep. And dinna forget what I said about brushing yer teeth.”
He closed the door and padded silently down the corridor towards his own room.
He was tired and his muscles ached. He wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sink into oblivion for a few hours.
Yet he suspected that wouldn’t be easy. He felt wrung out and on edge and his thoughts kept going round in circles.
The sickness. Lir’s intervention. Catriona and his people.
Rose MacFinnan.
He stopped. To his left, a corridor led down to the guest quarters. He ought to carry straight on to his own rooms, go to bed, and try to sleep. That would be the sensible thing to do.
Instead, he found himself turning on his heel, striding down the corridor into the guest quarters, and stopping in front of a large, polished door. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the wood and heard footsteps approaching.
The door pulled wide, revealing Rose standing there, blinking in surprise.
Her midnight hair was a riot of dark waves falling across her shoulders and her eyes seemed big enough to drown in as she gazed up at him in surprise.
She was wearing a shapeless nightdress that covered her from neck to toes but candlelight was spilling from behind her, making the nightdress seem almost transparent and casting the curves underneath into stark silhouette.
Cailean’s mouth went dry. What was he doing here? Why had he come?
“I… um…”
Oh hell.
He cleared his throat and tried again. “I… um… I just came to thank ye.”
“Thank me?”
“For what ye did today. For helping Drew.” For bringing hope to my people and my daughter.
Rose shook her head. “You don’t need to thank me for that. It’s why I’m here, remember?”
Cailean wondered about that. Why had she agreed to travel into the past to help people she’d never even met?
What did she get out of it? In his experience people didn’t do things without some kind of reward.
So what was hers? She’d asked for nothing but Cailean wasn’t stupid enough to think her help would come without a cost.
“Er… was there anything else?” she asked.
Aye, he thought. I want to know what you’re doing here. I want to know who you really are and why you came. I want to know why you make me do stupid things like come to your door when I have no reason to be here.
But all he said was, “Nay. That was all. Sleep well, Rose MacFinnan.”
“Sleep well, Cailean MacNeil.”
He gave a curt nod then spun and strode away. As he reached his own rooms and closed his door, he got the feeling that sleep would be a long time coming.
*