Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“What is a cèilidh, exactly?” Marian asked as they made their way back to the Great Hall.
Lachlan looked sideways at her, his eyebrows rising slightly. “Ye truly daenae ken?”
A small frown creased her face at his tone.
“No, my Laird,” she admitted quietly, leaning into him so that no one around them would hear. “I was hoping you would tell me.”
Lachlan scoffed. The sound was faint, almost as though he was amused.
“Of course,” he said. He muttered something in Gaelic to another guest in the corridor before turning back to her. “Dancin’… Drinkin’… Certainly more noise than ye’re used to.”
Because I am English.
Marian nodded, looking away as they continued to walk.
The music grew louder as they drew closer to the hall, the melodious drumming echoing through the stone passage.
Marian hesitated for a moment before asking him another question. “And… am I expected to participate in this… dancing?”
Lachlan did not look at her. “’Tis up to ye, lass.” His gaze was fixed straight ahead on nothing in particular. “But I suppose someone might ask ye to dance.” A muscle ticked at his temple as his jaw tightened. “A gentleman, as ye English say.”
Marian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
I do not wish to dance with another man.
Her fingers curled faintly at her sides before she uncurled them, realizing that she had just considered Lachlan a man different from the rest.
“And if I refuse?” she asked, raising her chin just a fraction.
Lachlan looked at her again, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Then ye refuse, Mairi,” he said quietly, though his tone was no longer light. “But I daenae think any man here would be foolish enough to press ye if ye daenae wish it.” He paused. “Ye are with me.”
Marian swallowed at his words, grateful for the timely glow of torchlight as it spilled into the corridor. The sound of music and laughter rushed toward them as they stepped into the Great Hall, and her lips dropped open in awe.
Wonderful.
The Great Hall felt warmer than the other parts of the castle. She inhaled, taking in the atmosphere as Lachlan whispered something next to her.
He moved away before she’d had a chance to process his words, his long strides carrying him toward the far end of the hall, where most of the men were gathered.
Suddenly, she was alone.
She released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, looking around her to drink in every fascinating detail.
There was not much to the décor per se, and yet the hall felt so much livelier than any English ball she’d ever been to. The chaotic and yet surprisingly coordinated rhythm of the dance interested her.
Surely, I cannot make sense of it.
Her eyes widened at the way the people struck the ground with their boots in rhythm to the drums, and the loud, unrestrained laughter that followed every one of their movements, both men and women.
A couple nearly stumbled into her, and she stepped back quickly, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she regained her balance.
It struck her then how easily she had been drawn in by it all.
“Pardon me,” she said as she moved out of what had suddenly become a dance floor, though no one seemed to mind.
She was careful not to bump into any more dancers as she walked toward the table on the right side of the hall.
“Lady Marian,” a familiar—or rather, English—voice called out to her.
Marian looked up to see Anna waving from amidst a group of Highland ladies, her smile bright and inviting. She made her way toward them, offering a polite smile as they all exchanged pleasantries.
Anna reached for her hand at once and tucked it into the crook of her arm with an easy warmth. “I would like to introduce you, ladies, to a fellow English lady,” she announced with a wide grin. “Lady Marian Whitcombe.”
Gasps of surprise rippled through the group.
“Have ye traveled all the way from England for the cèilidh?” one of the ladies asked, her eyes widening with interest.
Marian laughed softly, shaking her head. “No. I have been in the Highlands for a while now. I traveled for…” She hesitated for a moment.
Shall I say what it is?
Her gaze drifted across the hall, and she caught sight of Lachlan in the crowd.
“… some affairs.”
“Affairs?” another lady repeated, her voice laced with curiosity. “What sort of affairs would bring an English lady this far north?”
“I never kent ye English ladies handled things of that nature,” a third added, and the others murmured in agreement. “Lady Anna never mentioned such a thing.”
The questions came too quickly now, overlapping one another, so Marian lost track of them. She felt her composure falter just slightly.
“Well, ladies…” she tried, her voice softer as she tried to gather their attention. “It is only some family…” Her words faltered as she glanced toward Anna, a silent plea for rescue in her eyes.
Anna understood at once. She gave her a knowing smile.
“Excuse us, ladies,” she said gently, squeezing her hand slightly as she drew her aside. “We’ll leave the questions for another time. Lady Marian must be tired from her travels.”
Once they were alone, Anna took two glasses of ale and passed one to Marian. “I hope you do not mind?” She smiled.
Marian shook her head, taking the glass from her. “Thank you, Lady Anna.”
Anna waved a hand dismissively. “You do not need to address me by my title now. Anna is fine.”
Marian nodded once. “Very well, Anna. Thank you.”
She took a sip of her ale, her eyes narrowing slightly at its strong taste.
It is quite strong.
“I knew I had to see you since I arrived in the Highlands.”
“I am glad you came, Marian,” Anna responded, though the ale did not seem to have a similar effect on her. “It is nice to see you again, after all the time that has passed.”
Marian nodded again. “You may not remember…” Her voice was much softer now. “But I was always against what they said about you in London.”
Anna smiled softly. “I do remember.”
“You do?” Marian’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, and she set down her drink.
“Yes, Marian. You once gave me a handkerchief when I cried in Hyde Park.”
Marian blinked. “I cannot believe you remember that. It was so long ago.”
“I could never forget your kindness, Marian,” Anna said. “And I believe you will make a fine Highland lady someday.”
A soft smile spread across Marian’s face, but her gaze no longer lingered on Anna.
Instead, it drifted across the room to Lachlan.
He stood tall among the men, laughing easily as his presence commanded without effort.
Her eyes fell to his hands, strong and sure in the way he held his tankard, and she remembered the way they felt on her waist earlier.
The memory came unbidden.
A sudden warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the crowded hall, and she struggled to focus on her conversation with Anna.
“Don’t you worry, Marian,” Anna murmured, her hand coming to rest on Marian’s arm, drawing her back to the present. “You will, I promise.”
Marian let out a small laugh. “You say that as though it is simple.” Her voice held a quiet skepticism, though her eyes were now fixed on the intriguing movements of the dancers.
“It is not,” Anna said gently. She studied Marian for a moment with the sort of understanding that came from having once stood in a similar place.
Marian hesitated before speaking again, her fingers tightening lightly around the handkerchief she held.
“I was not sent here to become anything, Anna,” she said quietly as Anna guided her to a table nearby. “I was sent here because I was… convenient.”
“Convenient?”
Marian let out a small breath as they sat down. “My mother and uncle sent me here to…” She looked around briefly, her voice lowering. “…secure an inheritance tied to the MacLeod lands.”
She straightened her back.
“But I know they sent me because they wish to get rid of me, and I do not wish to return home either. It is my wish to remain in the Highlands and make the castle my home, if it truly is my inheritance.”
Anna’s expression softened rather than hardened at the admission.
“You were sent here,” she said quietly. “But that does not mean you are without worth.”
Marian nodded. She thought about Anna’s words for a moment before her gaze drifted back toward the center of the hall, where couples spun and laughed beneath the warm glow of torchlight.
Music filled the room, vibrant and alive, and the dancers moved with a kind of effortless belonging that made her suddenly aware of how different she was.
She watched them for several long seconds, feeling the familiar ache she had known since childhood—the quiet certainty that she had always been placed somewhere rather than chosen.
As though summoned by the thought, she turned her head slightly and saw Lachlan walk away from the men, his gaze sweeping across the hall.
He must be looking for someone.
She looked away fast, but not before she saw a flicker of something cross his face. Something that looked almost like… longing.