Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Everywhere is so beautiful.”
The celebration was exactly what Elinor had hoped for, and David could barely enjoy a moment of it.
Not because anything was going wrong. Everything was perfect.
The food was spectacular, the music lively, the clan clearly delighted with their new lady.
Torches blazed along the garden paths, lanterns swung from the trees, and the great hall overflowed with people laughing and dancing and celebrating.
But David couldn't focus on any of it.
Because Elinor was everywhere except beside him.
He watched from the high table as she moved through the crowd with effortless grace, greeting families, remembering names, accepting gifts with genuine warmth.
She'd changed into a gown the color of deep sapphire that made her pale skin glow in the firelight, and some children had woven fresh heather into her hair.
She looked like a fairy queen. Beautiful and ethereal and completely captivating.
And every man in the hall had noticed.
"Ye're scowlin', David."
Tristan dropped into the seat beside him, a cup of ale in each hand. He offered one to David, who took it without looking away from where Elinor was currently speaking with the baker's wife.
"I'm nae scowlin'."
"Ye absolutely are. Ye've been watchin' her like a hawk fer the past hour." Tristan took a long drink. "Thought ye'd be pleased. She's daein' exactly what ye hoped she'd dae, winnin' over the clan."
"I am pleased."
"Ye look like ye want tae murder someone."
"I'm fine."
"Ye're really nae." Tristan followed his gaze. "Oh. Oh, I see it now."
"See what?"
"Ye're jealous."
David's hand tightened on his cup. "I'm nae jealous."
"Ye are. Look at ye." Tristan's grin was insufferable.
"She's been talkin' tae fer over an hour. She hasnae sat down once."
"Because she's daein' her duty. Which is what ye wanted her tae dae."
"Aye, but—" David stopped, realizing how ridiculous he sounded. "Never mind."
David set down his cup and stood, moving through the crowd with deliberate purpose. He kept his expression neutral, nodding at clansmen who called out greetings, but his focus never wavered from Elinor.
She was speaking with old Hamish now, listening intently as he told some story that involved dramatic hand gestures. She laughed at something he said, her whole face lighting up, and David felt that laugh like a physical touch.
God, ye are bonnie.
He was nearly to her when a young man, not more than twenty, with sandy hair and an earnest face, stepped into her path.
"Me lady," the boy said, his voice cracking slightly with nerves. "I was wonderin' if ye might spare a moment? Me maither wanted me tae thank ye fer the wonderful feast."
David's growl was ferocious enough to scare even a mountain wild cat. The young man jumped, spinning to find David right behind him.
"Me laird! I didnae—I was just—" The boy's face went red. "I was goin' tae relay me maither's compliments on the celebration."
"Were ye now."
It wasn't a question. The boy seemed to recognize that, because he took a step back, then another, his courage clearly failing.
"Perhaps another time," he mumbled, then fled into the crowd.
Elinor watched him go, then turned to David with raised eyebrows. "Was that really necessary?"
"Was what necessary?"
"Terrifying that poor boy. He was being perfectly polite."
"I didnae terrify him."
"You absolutely did. He ran away."
"He didnae run. He walked. Quickly."
"Because you looked at him like you were planning his execution." But there was amusement in her voice, not anger. "The poor thing was just passing along his mother's compliments."
"Aye, well." David stepped closer, close enough to smell the lavender in her hair mixed with the heather from her crown. "He can find someone else to compliment. Ye're spoken fer."
"Am I?" Her eyes sparkled with challenge.
"Ye agreed yesterday. In the kitchen." He held out his hand. "I asked if ye'd save me a dance. Ye said yes."
"I did, didn't I?" She placed her hand in his, and the simple touch sent heat racing through his veins.
They moved together across the floor, and David was acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched—her hand in his, his palm against her waist, the brush of her skirts against his legs.
Other couples danced around them, but he barely noticed. His entire focus had narrowed to the woman in his arms.
"Ye look beautiful taenight," he said quietly. "I dinnae think I told ye that yet."
Color rose in her cheeks. "You're just saying that because you feel guilty about scaring off that poor boy."
"I'm sayin' it because it's true." He spun her gently, then pulled her back. "That gown suits ye. And the heather in yer hair—" He reached up, touching one of the purple blooms. "The children chose well."
"They were very enthusiastic about the decorating process."
"I saw. Ye were good with them."
"They're easy to be good with. Children usually are, when you actually pay attention to them." Something flickered across her face. "My father never paid attention to anyone unless they could be useful to him."
"Then he was a fool." David's hand tightened at her waist.
The music swelled, and he pulled her closer, close enough that propriety might have objected if anyone were paying attention.
"And I ken," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "that I'm the luckiest bastard in this hall because I get tae dance with ye while every other man here can only wish they could."
"That's—" She swallowed. "You're very eloquent tonight."
"I'm tellin' the truth."
"The truth is dangerous."
"Aye." He spun her again, this time pulling her even closer when she came back to him. Close enough that anyone watching would know exactly how he felt about his wife. "But I'm findin' I dinnae care much about bein' careful anymore."
The music shifted, becoming something slower, more intimate. Around them, couples drew together, the hall's energy changing from celebration to something headier.
Elinor's hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. "We're supposed to be maintaining appearances."
"We are." His thumb traced circles at her waist. "What better appearance than a husband who cannae keep his hands off his wife?"
"That's not—we have rules."
"In private. We have rules in private." He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. "Right now, we're very much in public. Which means I can touch ye all I want."
He felt her shiver. "You're using technicalities again."
"I'm very good at technicalities."
"I've noticed."
They moved together, the space between them shrinking with each step until there was barely any space at all. David could feel the rapid rise and fall of her breathing, could see the flush spreading across her skin.
Around them, the crowd erupted in cheers and whistles, but David barely heard it. All he could focus on was Elinor and the softness of her lips, the way she gasped against his shoulders, the feeling of her fingers tightening on his hands, and the feel of her waist.
When he finally pulled back from the dance, they were both breathing hard.
"That was..." she started.
"Necessary," he finished. "Fer appearances."
"Right. For appearances." But the way she looked at him suggested it had been more than that.
Much more.
Before David could say anything else, before he could pull her close again and damn the entire celebration, someone cleared their throat loudly behind them.
"Excuse me, me laird. Me lady."
Elinor stepped back quickly, her cheeks flaming as she turned to find an older woman grinning at them.
"I hate tae interrupt," the woman said, clearly not hating it at all, "but there's some folks who'd like tae meet Lady Elinor, if ye can spare her fer a bit."
David wanted to say no. Wanted to keep Elinor in his arms for the rest of the night. But he forced himself to release her, stepping back to give her space.
"Of course," Elinor said, her voice only slightly breathless.
She glanced back at him as the woman led her away, and the look in her eyes made David's chest tight.
David stood alone on the dance floor for a moment, trying to collect himself. Trying to remember how to breathe normally. Trying to ignore the fact that everyone was watching him with knowing smiles.
Tristan appeared at his elbow again. "So. That was subtle."
"Shut up."
"I'm just sayin', if ye wanted people tae ken ye're attracted tae yer wife, mission accomplished."
"I said shut up."
"Aye, me laird." But Tristan was grinning. "Though ye might want tae compose yerself before ye try tae mingle. Ye look like ye're about tae chase her down and finish what ye started."
David shot him a look that would have made lesser men flee. Tristan just laughed.
David forced himself to circulate through the celebration, accepting congratulations and making conversation with clan elders who wanted to discuss trade agreements and harvest yields and a dozen other topics he couldn't quite focus on.
His attention kept drifting back to Elinor. She was near the garden entrance, speaking with a group of women who seemed to be offering her advice about something based on the animated gestures.
She looked happy. Engaged. Like she belonged there.
Like she was home.
The thought had barely formed when David noticed four men approaching her. They moved with the confidence of warriors, and something about the way they walked made him look closer.
They had Elinor surrounded now, their backs to him, and she was laughing at something one of them said.
David was moving before conscious thought caught up with action. He crossed the hall in long strides, his hand going automatically to where his dirk would normally rest—except he'd left it in their chambers because one didn't wear weapons to one's own celebration.
"Step back," he said as he reached the group, his voice carrying the full authority of a laird who'd just seen a threat to what was his.
The four men turned as one, and David found himself face to face with—
"Euan?"
Euan MacLeod stood there, his scarred face breaking into a wide grin.
"What—" David's brain struggled to process. "What are ye daein' here?"
"What daes it look like?" Calum MacKinnon stepped forward, pulling David into a rough embrace. "We came fer yer celebration, ye daft bastard. Did ye really think we'd miss it?"
"But how did ye ken? I didnae even send an invitation."
"Word travels fast in the Highlands." Archibald MacRae clasped his shoulder. "Especially when a Covenant braither suddenly gets married."
"Aye." Lachlann MacNeil was grinning. "We heard ye'd taken an English bride and decided we had tae meet her. See what kind of woman finally convinced David MacDonald tae settle down."
David looked at Elinor, who was watching this reunion with obvious confusion. "These are—"
"Your brothers from the Covenant," she finished. "Yes, they explained. Though I have to say, I'm still not entirely clear on what that means."
"It means," Euan said, his tone gentling as he addressed her, "that these four fools and I have been braithers in everything but blood since we were bairns.
We grew up taegether. Trained taegether.
Survived things taegether that should have killed us.
" He bowed formally. "It's an honor tae meet ye, Lady MacDonald.
Any woman who can capture David's heart deserves our respect. "
"I'm not sure I captured anything," Elinor said, but she was smiling.
He moved to Elinor's side, his hand finding the small of her back automatically.
"Elinor, I apologize fer nae introducin' ye properly.
These are me braithers. Euan MacLeod, Laird of Clan MacLeod.
" He gestured to each in turn. "Calum MacKinnon, Laird of Clan MacKinnon.
Archibald MacRae, Laird of Clan MacRae. And Lachlann MacNeil Laird of Clan MacNeil. "
"It's wonderful to meet you all," Elinor said warmly. "David's told me about the Covenant. About how you all grew up together."
"Has he now." Euan's eyes never left David's face. "I wonder what else he's told ye."
"Not nearly enough, I suspect." But Elinor's tone was light. "Though I'm hoping you might fill in some gaps. What was he like as a child?"
"Stubborn," Calum said immediately.
"Serious," Archibald added.
"Always thinkin' he kent best," Lachlann finished.
"So exactly the same as he is now." Elinor smiled. "That's oddly comforting."
They all laughed, and some of the tension eased. David caught Euan's eye, saw the promise of a conversation—probably an interrogation—to come later.
But for now, for this moment, his brothers were here. His wife was safe and smiling. And the celebration continued around them.
"Where's Moyra?" David asked Euan.
Euan's expression softened at the mention of his wife. "She's home with the bairns. Our youngest is only three months old, and Moyra didnae want tae make the journey yet."
"How many do ye have?" Elinor asked.
"Two. A boy and a girl." Pride radiated from Euan's face. "Both healthy and loud and completely exhaustin'."
"Congratulations."
"Aye, well. Ye'll understand soon enough." Euan's gaze shifted to Elinor, then back to David with meaning. "I imagine it willnae be long before we're celebratin' similar news from Keppoch."
David felt Elinor stiffen beside him. "Let's nae get ahead of ourselves."
"I'm just sayin', the way ye were dancin’ on the dance floor—"
"Enough." David's voice carried an edge. "Ye're embarrassin' me wife."
"Am I?" Euan looked at Elinor with interest. "Ye'll have tae fergive us, me lady. We're nae used tae David bein' married. It's rather entertainin' tae see him so... domesticated."
"I'm nae domesticated."
"Ye absolutely are," Calum said cheerfully. "Ye've got that look."
"What look?"
"The look of a man who's completely besotted with his wife." Calum grinned.
David opened his mouth to argue, caught sight of Elinor's expression—part amusement, part curiosity—and decided silence was the better option.
"Come," Archibald said, taking pity on him. "Let's find a dram and toast properly tae this marriage.
David let himself be drawn toward the high table.
His brothers were here. His wife was happy. And for that one night, at least, everything felt exactly right.