Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A listair winced as he led Niamh into the Great Hall for the wedding feast. His bride still looked far too pale and overwhelmed, for all she’d put on a brave face earlier. If he was honest with himself, she wasn’t the only one. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on and would have dearly loved to have half a candle-mark of peace and quiet to gather his thoughts and his composure.
Seeing Niamh so terrified had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. For the first time, he had truly questioned whether he could do what was necessary for the good of the clan. He could guess what had frightened her and was glad he hadn’t seen her to tell her about the council’s demand. She probably would have fled then and there.
Unfortunately, there was no chance to discuss the matter, or soothe her fears any further. They were expected in the hall for the feast, and appearances had to be maintained. Even so, he took a moment to face Niamh and tip her face to meet his. “Are ye all right? I’ll make yer excuses if ye wish.”
He’d face criticism for it, but he owed her at least that much courtesy. Besides, as she was now his wife, it fell to him to ensure her comfort and happiness. If that meant attending the wedding feast alone, then so be it.
Fortunately for his reputation, she shook her head. “Nay. I’m feeling better now, and I ken they expect us both tae be present.” She offered him a wan smile. “Appearances must be maintained.”
“Aye. That they must.” He answered her smile with a faint smile of his own. “However, ye should ken that I’m nae in the best mood fer feastin’ either, so if ye want tae flee, just say the word. I’ll be more than happy tae find a way tae excuse us both.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The gleam that entered her eyes made him wonder if she might decide to stay just to be contrary. Oddly enough, the thought made him feel more cheerful. If she was feeling well enough to try and frustrate him, it meant she’d recovered some of her spirits. He might spend his night sighing in irritation, but at least one of them could find some enjoyment in the whole arrangement.
Together, they entered the hall and made their way to the head table. Alistair drew out Niamh’s chair for her, then took his own. As tradition dictated, Ewan and Catriona took seats on either side of them, as the witnesses. The rest of the table was filled by the Council members, and the heads of the cadet branches and subordinate clans that lived under the MacDuff banner.
The lower tables on either side were filled with the clan-folk from the nearby village, and the warriors who weren’t on watch, as well as their families. The center of the floor was clear for dancing, and the musicians were already warming up as they sat down to the meal.
Given the duration of the feast, the first few courses would be light, spaced out to whet the appetite, rather than truly sating it. Then there would be dancing, followed by the main feast, then more dancing until late in the night.
Alistair forced himself to eat. He wasn’t truly hungry, but he hadn’t eaten, and he knew he had to have something. From the way she nibbled at the items on her plate, it seemed as though Niamh felt much the same.
The first dancers were beginning to make their way out onto the floor, and the sight of them sparked an idea in Alistair’s mind. He leaned over. “Dae ye like tae dance?”
“I dae. I’ve always enjoyed dancing during the festivals. ‘Twas something I did with Grace.”
Alistair ignored the reference to the Englishwoman as he stood and offered her his hand. “’Tis expected o’ the newly wedded couple tae dance the first dance.”
Niamh looked up at him with widened eyes. “I dinnae ken the steps fer Highland dances.”
Alistair offered her a confident smile. “I ken them well enough, and I’ll guide ye. ‘Twill be fine.”
For a moment, he thought she might refuse, unwilling to brave the potential judgment of the clan-folk around her. But Niamh was braver than that. After the slightest hesitation, she placed her hand in his and stood. “Dinnae blame me if I step on yer feet. I’m fond o’ dancing, but I willnae swear I’m skilled at it.”
Alistair smirked as he led her to the floor. “I’m sure ye’ll manage. Ye’re a deft enough lass.”
“Mayhap. But I practiced dancing more tae discourage suitors than tae keep up with them.” Niamh gave him a sideways look as they took their places on the floor.
The music started, and Alistair swept her into the first steps of the dance. “Left foot, step forward, step forward, back…”
She stepped on his foot, hard enough that Alistair barely managed to suppress a wince as they both stumbled. He steadied her. “’Tis well enough, dinnae fret... step tae the left, the right…”
She stepped on his foot again. Alistair kept his face straight with an effort.
By the time the first dance was over, Alistair had realized two things. The first was that Niamh had not been joking about her lack of prowess at dancing, especially with dances she didn’t know. The second was that the boots he was wearing were not up to the abuse of her continual missteps.
The second dance was of a different style, a closer couples dance, rather than a reel. The sound of the music gave Alistair an idea. He drew Niamh close to his chest. “Here. Let’s try somethin’ else. Stand on my feet.”
“What?” She blinked up at him.
“Ye’re dainty enough. Step back ontae me feet and put yer hands on me arms.” He pulled her close. “I ken ye find it difficult but trust me. At the very least, trust that ‘twillnae be worse than stumbling all over each other.”
“All right.” She leaned into his grip and stepped back.
Balancing with her in his arms like that was a little difficult, but as the opening notes began to play, he managed to get himself steadied enough to step forward with the rest of the men.
It was by no means his most graceful performance on the floor, but it was easier than having Niamh trip over his feet every few moments. As the music went on, he found his balance and his rhythm, and the dance became easier.
In his arms, Niamh relaxed as well. Her shoulders settled, and her body began to match his movements. Her actions became more confident, until she actually dared to step out of his arms to join the other lasses in a spin, before returning to his embrace with a bright smile.
The sight of that smile made Alistair’s heart skip a beat, and it was only with an effort that he kept moving. Niamh’s smile, bright and uninhibited, was like seeing the sunrise over a loch, bright and pure and blinding in its intensity.
The warmth of it set fire surging through his veins, but it also ignited a different sort of warmth in his belly. Alistair bit the inside of his cheek.
With a smile like that, Niamh, ye could surely enchant me and tak’ me heart... and I’d give it tae ye gladly. And yet, ‘tis exactly what I cannae dae, if I wish tae keep both o’ us safe from the curse I carry.
When she’d first stepped out on the dance floor with Alistair, she’d been beyond nervous. She knew nothing of Highland dances, and she’d been sure she was going to disgrace both of them.
Then Alistair had come up with the idea of holding her while they danced, his feet supporting hers as they went through the steps. When they separated for reels, he would be sure to exaggerate his movements to give her more room to move, so she could step freely where she wished.
From an embarrassing ordeal, the dances became interesting, then fun. No one laughed at her, even when she stumbled, and Niamh found herself surrounded by good cheer and smiling faces. When they went into a group reel, the women she danced with were only too willing to show her the basics of the movements. She wasn’t the most graceful or elegant dancer, but that didn’t matter.
Then Catriona joined them, with her husband, a tall, well-built clansman by the name of Diarmont, and her young son. With their inclusion and encouragement, the last of Niamh’s nerves melted away, and she allowed herself to get lost in the music and the dances of her new clan.
For the first time since that brief, sunlit interlude at the stream over a seven-day ago, she was having fun. And it was all thanks to Alistair.
Niamh danced until she was breathless, and then Alistair led her back to the table for a drink of sweet wine. Together, they watched the dancers until it was time for the main feast to begin.
The feast was impressive. Venison, which was hard to get so close to the lands hunted by English lairds, served as the main meat, along with chickens, fish, and other fowl. There was a wonderful soup, roast vegetables, then cheeses and different types of bread, and platters of meat swimming in gravy.
Everything was delicious, and Niamh ate until she was full nearly to bursting, before she excused herself to relieve herself and get a breath of fresh air.
She refreshed herself, then went back out to the main hall. She was just contemplating whether she wanted to dance, or sit back down to sample the sweets that were being laid out on each table, along with tea, honey mead and more wine, when there was a tug on her skirt.
She looked down to find a solemn-faced little girl, her dark hair braided back and a cloak over her clothing. She looked wide-eyed and nervous, and Niamh’s heart went out to her. “Are ye well? Did ye get separated from yer kinfolk?”
The little girl shook her head, then lifted her hand to show a treat that looked similar to the ones on the tables. “I was told tae give this tae the lady o’ the clan, with congratulations.” The child lisped and stumbled over the word, and Niamh’s heart melted further.
She took the sweet, and offered the little girl a smile. “Thank yae. Dae ye want tae introduce me tae yer family, so I can thank them?”
The little girl shook her head, then turned and darted away. Within seconds, she was lost in the crowd. Niamh frowned.
Treat in hand, she went to sit beside Alistair. “One o’ yer younglings gave me this. What is it?”
“Looks like a Black Bun, or a slice o’ one. Probably brought tae the feast by one o’ the local families. They’ve all their own recipes.”
“Well, it smells good.” Niamh inhaled deeply in appreciation, then took a bite.
She tasted fruit, but it was immediately overwhelmed by a bitter taste. Niamh coughed, frowning.
“Dae ye nae like it?” Alistair frowned.
“’Tis bitter.” Niamh grimaced.
Alistair’s expression changed like lightning. “Spit it out. Spit it out now!”
Niamh complied, too startled to do anything else. Alistair took the rest of the sweet from her hand. “Ewan, send someone tae fetch a pig from the stables. One o’ the runty ones that we were plannin’ on butchering afore Samhain.”
Ewan called over a servant, just as Catriona came over, attracted by the growing commotion. “Alistair, what’s goin’ on?”
“A child gave Niamh a slice o’ Black Bun tae eat, but she said ‘twas bitter.” Alistair’s face was grim.
“Give me yer scotch.” Catriona took Alistair’s glass and handed it to Niamh. “Take a swallow o’ this, rinse out yer mouth, then spit it back intae the glass.”
Niamh did as she was told. She was starting to feel frightened. The liquor burned her throat and made her eyes water, but it was nothing to the unease that filled her stomach and turned the food she’d eaten to lead in her gut.
Catriona took the glass and carried it over to a fire to toss the contents in, just as a servant brought in a moderately sized pig. Niamh watched as Alistair cut the remains of her Black Bun in half and tossed one piece to the floor in front of the pig. The pig gobbled it up with enthusiasm.
The entire hall was silent, waiting, when the pig suddenly grunted, squealed and started shivering. Foam gathered in the corners of its mouth as it collapsed, convulsing.
Within moments, the pig was dead, and Niamh felt her throat go dry. “What?”
“Ewan, shut down the hall, and gather the folk taegether. Double the guard.” Alistair’s face was thunderous as he rose and gathered her into his arms. “Have the food gathered and see if we can find where this portion o’ Black Bun came from.”
“Aye.”
Niamh clutched her new husband’s arm. “Alistair, what’s happening?”
He looked down at her, his eyes dark with anger. “Someone tried tae poison ye.”