Chapter 21
Aforeboding sense of dread stayed with Lily during the Lammas feast. Niamh had arrived from the keep on Killian’s order, and she joined in the festivities, dancing around the large fire the villagers had made.
Killian and his men sat with Lily, facing the fire. There was roasted mutton and venison, many vegetables and lots of ale.
Lily had learned when she had first arrived on the shores of Scotland that the men here drank ale a lot, and that night, as they celebrated, she witnessed a few of them choke on their quaichs of ale numerous times.
They kept drinking, anyway, and the musicians played their tunes, filling the night sky with the trembles of their drums and melodious voices while they chanted in Gaelic.
“It means we hail,” Niamh said to Lily. “Ye’re awfully quiet. I guess ye dinnae understand what they sing.”
Lily shook her head as she faced her. “I do not even know how to dance the Celtic steps,” she admitted. “I have always been more focused on learning to fight.”
Niamh’s eyes sparkled in the next second, and she latched onto Lily’s hands, shocking her. “Will ye teach me? My brothers never let me hold a sword growin’ up. I have always wanted to learn to fight and defend myself like ye.”
“I will be more than delighted to teach you,” Lily answered just before Fletcher cleared his throat by their side, making both of them face him.
“As the lady of the keep, ye shall have other duties, milady,” Fletcher said to Niamh, not sparing Lily a glance. “There is an order of things, milady. Ye shallnae endanger yerself by learnin’ to wield a sword.”
“Surely you must know, sir, that a woman wielding a sword is not dangerous. If anything, she can defend herself from unforeseen enemies and not be easily killed. That is a great responsibility.”
“It is the duty of a man to protect and a woman and care for her,” Fletcher countered.
“But—”
“I shall learn, Fletcher,” Niamh interrupted Lily and Fletcher’s growing argument. “It is not to be discussed.”
Lily pressed her lips together, and she did not miss Fletcher’s glare as he pretended to cough again.
Niamh rose to her feet, then took Lily’s hands, pulling her to her feet. “Come… I shall teach ye to dance.”
Niamh seemed excited as she led Lily towards the crowd of dancers circling the fire. Lily spotted Killian and some of his men drinking in a corner, and he laughed hard at something one of them had said.
Lily admired him a little, loving how the corners of his eyes crinkled as his lips broadened with a smile.
“Put one foot in front of the other, and take it slowly,” Niamh said, showing Lily the steps of the traditional Highland dance that had to do with foot movements in patterns.
Lily missed a step on her first try. “I am not good at dancing,” she said amidst her laugh. “I never learned.”
“Take my hand and trust me.”
She placed her hand in Niamh’s and began following her every move. Soon, Lily enjoyed every move, and she held hands with Niamh as they danced around with the rest of the crowd.
When the dance was over, Lily’s smile reached the sides of her ears. “Thank you,” she said when Niamh released her hand. “And I am sorry… for how I treated you when I first arrived at the keep,” she stuttered out.
Niamh only laughed, her riotous sound rippling through the air around them and making Lily smile some more.
“Already forgiven and forgotten,” she reassured. “I understand ye were scared and tense when ye first got here… But now, ye have realized we arenae terrible people. We arenae the enemy.”
Lily only nodded just before she caught Killian approaching them out of the corner of her eye. Seeing him instantly filled her with warmth.
Her pulse quickened, and Niamh definitely noticed the flush on her face because she asked, “Ye like him, dinnae ye?”
Lily scoffed and flushed harder. “What! No!” she denied hotly.
“Liar!” Niamh teased her with a laugh, just before Lily looked at Killian again and drew in a deep breath.
All right, yes, I do like Killian.
But she was never going to admit that out loud to anyone… especially Niamh, whom she knew would tease her.
The music picked up a faster beat again. Lily was about to join Niamh for another dance when Killian stopped beside them and took her hand.
“What are you doing?” Lily asked, her eyes widening in shock as her flush deepened and caused her skin to burn.
Killian drew her away from his sister, lifted her off the ground, and twirled her around in the air till she giggled out loud and tried to get him to put her down.
Her hands stayed on his shoulders when he set her on the ground again.
His hands did not leave her waist, and he drew her in and kept their pace.
Her ragged breaths took a lot of effort coming out of her lungs. Soon, Lily forgot all about her surroundings and focused on him. Killian made her feel alive in many ways. She burned for him now with much more intensity than the first time they had met.
Killian had to know this, right?
Kissing him last night had not been part of the plan. But he had taunted her, and she had failed to resist. Standing this close to him now, Lily wondered about his pleasure.
She had read in many romantic plays and books back in England that a man derived pleasure in a different way. Her skin burned as her mind pondered what it would feel like to give him that.
Just as much pleasure as he gave me last night.
When they reached the end of their dance, Killian tucked her closer to him one last time, slid his hand to the small of her back, and tipped her down so she nearly touched the ground.
Applause erupted around them, and the heat kissing Lily’s skin sprang hotter till she pressed her hands to her cheeks. She glanced around where they stood by the fire and saw that most of the spectating villagers cheered.
Killian’s men and Niamh also joined in the applause, and it thundered on around them for a long time before the musicians continued with a slower tune.
“They loved yer dance,” Niamh spoke then, drawing Lily’s attention.
Lily turned away from Killian and joined Niamh instead. She could breathe easily when she wasn’t around him, at least.
“I am not so sure,” she answered as they returned to where they had sat earlier.
Fletcher was no longer there, and Lily could indulge Niamh’s questions about swordsmanship without him interrupting.
The rest of their time feasting ran by fast. Lily had her fill of venison and hairst bree. Niamh offered her some cherries after they decided to walk around the field.
“My brother learned from our faither. He was the best swordsman of his time. Many rumored that he moved like the wind. His enemies never saw him comin’ until they were down on their knees, bleedin’ to their death.”
Lily loved Niamh’s expressions and the vivid picture she painted of her father.
“Did ye have any swordsman in yer family?”
“I am an only child, and my parents were servants for an earl in the town I lived in before they passed. Their lives were all about their master,” Lily replied softly. “And me.”
She could not recall much, as she had been eight when it had happened, but at least her mother’s singing voice was always in her memory when she was sad.
“So, how did ye learn?”
“I practiced with the guards back in England, but that wasn’t enough. I met a man who was willing to teach me when I came here,” Lily answered, remembering Laird McLennan’s good friend back home. “He is very skilled.”
“My brother, Peter, was a skilled swordsman, but on the night he died, I dinnae think he fought for his life. When they brought back his body, his clothes were clean—his sword too. It proved that he trusted whoever attacked him that night.”
Niamh’s tone dropped a notch as she spoke of her late brother, and Lily’s heart ached with grief for her.
“Your brother was alone when he was attacked, was he not?” Lily asked as they slowed their steps.
Their walk around the field ended when they reached where most of the villagers were gathered. Some men were performing a sword and fire dance, and most villagers, including Killian and some of his men, were watching their performance with much interest.
“Nay,” Niamh said. “He wasnae alone. He was here in Wehnthor, and he went for a ride to his favorite cliff with some of his men. He was attacked, and his men were killed. Only Fletcher survived. He was badly wounded when he returned, and he nearly died too. He told us everything that happened that day.”
“Only Fletcher survived?” Lily asked.
Niamh nodded, and Lily spotted Fletcher ordering some of Killian’s men when her gaze skittered past Niamh to scan the crowd.
“He has been loyal to our family for decades. He saved my brother’s life so many times and blamed himself for his death in the end. He is a good man.”
As Lily watched him, she felt grateful that Killian had someone like that on his side.
Someone loyal whom you can trust with your life.
Killian found Lily and Niamh some seconds later, and he led them back to the crowd of villagers so they could join in the final dance. They feasted till the break of dawn, celebrating with hopes for a good harvest to come.
When Lily finally retired to rest in the early hours of the morning, she lay cuddled up in a ball on the bed she shared with Niamh and thought of Killian’s plan to find who had betrayed his brother.
She decided to write to Duncan once she returned to the keep. He had no reason to plan war while she stayed here willingly to help prove his innocence.
It is the only thing I can offer him. He has given me so much already.
She dozed off at some point while nursing her thoughts, but the blissful sleep did not last for long. She jerked awake as the suffocating scent of smoke and ash filled her lungs.
The vibrant red flames licked up the walls and the floor of the cabin, closing in towards the bed as they burned every other item in its wake. Lily’s lungs constricted tight till she coughed again, wheezing as breath escaped her.
Coughing, she lurched from the bed, her nerves already alert and her mind filled with panic. “Niamh!” she yelled. “There’s a fire… Someone set the cabin on fire!”