Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
"This is Keppoch."
David's voice pulled Elinor from her exhausted daze. She'd been half-asleep in the saddle, lulled by three days of hard riding and cold winds. But now she straightened, following his gesture toward the valley below.
And stopped breathing.
Her father's estate had been a crumbling testament to faded glory—grey stone gone dark with neglect, gardens choked with weeds, walls that seemed to sag under the weight of unpaid debts.
She'd grown up surrounded by decay, by the constant reminder that everything beautiful eventually rotted away.
Keppoch was nothing like that.
The castle rose from the Highland landscape like it had grown there, all grey stone and proud towers, banners snapping in the wind.
Smoke curled from chimneys. Light glowed in windows.
And surrounding it, spreading down the hillside in neat clusters, were cottages and workshops, a village that seemed to thrive rather than merely survive.
"It's beautiful," she said quietly.
David urged the horse forward, and she felt the shift in him, tension leaving his shoulders, his breathing deepening. "Come on. They'll be waitin' fer us."
The gates opened as they approached, the guards recognizing their laird and calling out greetings. People emerged from buildings, drawn by the commotion. Elinor was suddenly very aware of how she must look, travel-stained, exhausted, her hair in wild tangles from three days of wind.
David swung down from the horse, then reached up to help her. His hands closed around her waist, lifting her easily. For just a moment, before her feet touched the ground, she was suspended in his grip, close enough to see the faint lines of weariness around his eyes.
"Ready?" he asked quietly.
"No."
"Good answer." He set her down but kept one hand at the small of her back. "Just smile and nod. I'll dae the talkin'."
People were gathering now, curious faces turned toward them.
Elinor recognized the pattern. Servants trying to appear busy while watching everything, and guards standing at attention but with eyes sharp and assessing.
Meanwhile someone who looked like a steward hurried forward with questions already forming on his lips.
"Me laird!" The man stopped a few feet away, breathless. "Ye're back early. We didnae expect ye fer another week at least."
"Plans changed, Malcolm." David's voice carried authority, the easy command of someone who'd been giving orders his whole life. "I need tae introduce someone."
The steward's gaze slid to Elinor, taking in her fine gown, her English features, the way David's hand rested possessively at her back. His eyes widened, but he bowed politely.
"Everyone!" David raised his voice, and the courtyard went quiet. "This is Lady Elinor MacDonald. Me wife. And yer new lady."
The silence that followed was profound. Elinor felt dozens of eyes on her, weighing, judging, wondering. She lifted her chin, meeting their gazes the way she'd learned to meet her father's, with composure that revealed nothing.
Then a woman near the back started clapping. Slowly at first, then with gathering enthusiasm. Others joined in, tentative at first, then stronger. Within moments, the entire courtyard was filled with applause and shouts of congratulation.
"Welcome, me lady!"
"About time the laird took a wife!"
"A bonnie one too!"
Elinor felt heat rise in her cheeks. She wasn't used to this. Warmth, welcoming people seeming genuinely pleased rather than calculating what they could gain from her presence.
"Thank ye all," David said, and the crowd quieted again.
"We've had a long journey. Me lady needs rest." He turned to a young woman who'd been hovering near the kitchen entrance.
"Ainsley. Take Lady MacDonald tae the bedchamber.
Make sure she has everythin' she needs. A bath, clean clothes, and fresh, warm food. "
"Aye, me laird." The girl, Ainsley, bobbed a curtsy, her freckled face bright with curiosity. "Right this way, me lady."
David's hand squeezed gently at Elinor's back. "Go on, lass. Rest. I'll find ye later."
She wanted to protest. She wanted to stay by his side, if only because he was the one familiar thing in that overwhelming new place. But exhaustion was pulling at her bones, and the promise of a bath was irresistible.
"All right," she said quietly. Then, because people were watching and she was supposed to be a loving wife, she rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Don't be too long."
She felt him go still with surprise. Then his hand moved to her waist, steadying her. "I'll nae be," he murmured. For the watching crowd, surely. Not because he meant it.
Elinor turned and followed Ainsley toward the castle entrance and towards her chambers, very aware of the whispers starting up behind her.
"Here we are, me lady." Ainsley pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing a bedchamber that made Elinor's breath catch.
It was large and luxurious. A big bed with thick coverings, purple drapes that hung from the edge of the ceiling to the floor, a large fireplace already crackling with warmth, and windows that looked out over the valley.
Tapestries covered the walls with rich colors that had never been allowed to fade.
And everywhere around the room, from the mantel, the windowsill, and even woven into the tapestries were small touches that suggested someone cared deeply about this space.
"It's lovely." Elinor moved to the bed, running her hand over the cover. Soft wool, richly embroidered. She forced herself to snap out of it.
Ainsley hurried to the door. "I'll have the lads bring up water right away. Are ye hungry, me lady? I could bring ye somethin' from the kitchen."
"Please." Elinor's stomach chose that moment to growl, loud enough that both women heard it. She felt the heat rise up her neck. "If it's not too much trouble."
"Never a trouble, me lady." Ainsley's smile was warm, genuine. "It's a joy tae have a lady in the castle again. The laird's been alone too long."
She left before Elinor could ask what that meant. Alone? He had an entire castle full of people. How could he be alone?
Servants arrived with a tub and buckets of steaming water. They worked efficiently, filling the bath and adding herbs that made the room smell of lavender and something sharper—rosemary, perhaps.
One woman laid out clean clothes, a shift and a robe, all far finer than anything Elinor had owned.
"Will ye need help undressin', me lady?" Ainsley asked.
Elinor hesitated. She'd grown accustomed to dressing herself. But the laces on her gown were tight, travel-worn and knotted, and she could feel the exhaustion pulling at her bones.
"Yes. Please. If you don't mind."
"Never a mind, me lady. That's what I'm here fer Ainsley's smile was warm as she moved behind Elinor, her fingers deft on the laces. "These are proper tangled. How long have ye been wearin' this?"
"Three days." Elinor felt herself relaxing under the girl's gentle touch. "We barely stopped during the journey."
"Three days!" Ainsley's voice held sympathy, not judgment. "Nay wonder ye look ready tae drop. The laird can be single-minded when he's set on somethin'." She worked another knot free. "There we are. Just a few more."
"You've served here long?" Elinor asked, grateful for the distraction from her own thoughts.
"Since I was a wee thing. Me Ma worked in the kitchens, and when I was old enough, the laird's mother took me on as a maid.
" Ainsley's voice softened. "She was a kind lady.
Taught me how tae dae hair proper, how to care for fine fabrics.
Said every woman deserved tae feel beautiful, nay matter her station. "
The gown loosened, and Elinor felt the blessed relief of being able to breathe properly. "She sounds wonderful."
"She was." Ainsley helped ease the gown from Elinor's shoulders.
"The laird, he's been different since she passed.
Quieter. More closed off. But he's a good man, me lady.
One of the best." Ainsley helped her out of her stays next, unlacing them with practiced efficiency.
"If ye don't mind me sayin', me lady, ye're too thin. Have ye been ill?"
Heat crept up Elinor's neck. "No. My… father's household was not generous with meals."
"Ah." Understanding flickered across Ainsley's face. "Well, ye're here now. Cook will have ye fattened up proper in nay time. She'll be excited about havin' a lady tae cook fer again."
The kindness in her voice made Elinor's throat tight. "Thank you, Ainsley. For everything."
"Nay thanks needed, me lady." Ainsley handed her the clean shift. "Now, let's get ye intae this and intae that bath before the water goes cold. And after, I'll brush out yer hair proper. Looks like it could use some tender care."
As Ainsley helped her into the shift and then guided her toward the steaming tub, Elinor felt something unfamiliar bloom in her chest. Not just gratitude, but something warmer.
Acceptance. Belonging. The beginning of friendship.
“I’ll be back with food, me lady.” Ainsley said and left.
The bath was perfect, hot enough to make her skin pink, deep enough to sink into. She closed her eyes and let herself float for a moment, feeling tense muscles finally begin to relax.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked around the large chamber. Her mind ran over all she had seen since they arrived at the castle.
This is your home now. This castle. These people. This life.
It felt surreal. Four days ago, she'd been in her father's crumbling manor, dreading whatever fate he'd planned for her. Now she was Lady MacDonald, wife to a Highland laird, soaking in a tub in a castle that looked like something from a folklore tale.
She thought of that moment in the courtyard, when she'd kissed his cheek. The way he'd gone still, surprised. As if small gestures of affection were foreign to him.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Me lady? I've brought food."
"Come in."