Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Arthur’s eyes did not leave Marissa as he approached. He felt drawn to her. Pulled toward her like a moth to a flame.
Her hair, which had been unruly and wild when he’d first met her, had been styled in perfect ringlets that fell around her face. She looked so unbelievably lovely, and he couldn’t wait to speak with her.
He approached the head table, unable to look at anyone besides his betrothed. Her eyes were glinting with something he couldn’t quite place, but he couldn’t wait to talk to her and figure out what she was thinking.
A man’s voice sounded as soon as Arthur approached the table, and he turned his attention to him reluctantly.
“Ye must be Laird Reid?”
“Aye,” Arthur said. “And ye are Laird McEwan?”
Given where the man was sitting, and the air of authority that surrounded him, there was no one else he could be.
He nodded. “Me name is Michael.”
Arthur gave his own name, before extending his hand toward Michael. “Thank ye for lettin’ me stay.”
They shook hands, locking eyes.
Arthur could feel the man sizing him up, eyes roving over his hulking form.
Nay doubt tryin’ to figure out if I’m a good match for his sister-in-law.
Arthur felt no need to posture or perform for this man.
He did not need to convince him that he was good enough for Marissa.
He was good enough for Marissa. Their clans would be good allies, and it was a smart match.
He had no doubt about that, and he knew that Michael would see it for himself soon enough.
“Me wife would hear nothin’ else of it,” Michael said, giving him a knowing smile. “Ye’ll come to find out that when any of the sisters put their mind to somethin’, there is nothin’ that can sway ‘em.”
“Seems I’ll be havin’ me work cut out for me, then,” Arthur said, turning his gaze to Marissa and giving her a knowing, playful wink.
Her cheeks colored prettily, but she did not avert her gaze. She held his eyes, a challenge lingering in the depths of her expression. Interest bubbled inside him.
I have to get to ken her more.
“I’ll let ye sit next to yer betrothed,” Michael offered, vacating the seat next to Marissa.
Arthur nodded, turning to walk around the long table so that he could take his seat, which was directly between Marissa and Laird McEwan.
Sinking down into his seat, he did a quick sweep of everyone surrounding them.
On the other side of Marissa was a woman—a few years younger, by the looks of her. But she had the same auburn hair, brown eyes, round cheeks, and smattering of freckles as the other two. Likely the younger sister Marissa had mentioned in her letters.
“So, ye just got back from the war, me wife says?” Michael asked the moment Arthur was seated.
“Aye, for the last five years,” Arthur confirmed, dipping his head in acknowledgment before turning toward his plate.
His stomach gave a quick, loud growl, and he was thankful for the sound of the people around them. Everyone around him besides Marissa was already digging into their food, and Arthur was happy to do the same.
“Reached a peace treaty nearly three weeks ago,” he added around a bite of food.
“Three weeks.” Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “And ye were just gettin’ back to yer castle? What took ye so long?”
Arthur launched into the story, telling Michael exactly how the war had ended. The peace treaty had been signed three weeks ago, but there had still been bands of fighting that the two Lairds had to send notice to.
There had been war camps that needed to be dismantled and supplies divvied up to send back to varying villages—spoils of war. Arthur, who had always strived to be as hands-on as he could, and wanting to ensure that the loot was divvied up properly, had overseen it all.
He and Joseph had spent weeks with their men, dismantling camp after camp and spreading the news.
It was only after the last of their soldiers had been dismissed, riding either back toward Castle Reid or back to their own villages, that they had finally made their way home with the band of men journeying toward the castle.
The entire time he spoke, he could feel eyes on him. He had no doubt that if he glanced to his right, he would find Marissa staring at him.
Would her eyes be bright and filled with intrigue as she listened to him speak? Or would they be filled with judgment as he and Michael discussed the realities of war?
“It’s an honorable thing,” Michael admitted, giving him an approving nod. “To oversee yer men like that.”
Arthur barked a laugh. “Aye, tell that to me council.”
Michael’s eyebrows rose. “Yer council doesnae approve?”
Arthur took a moment to mull this over, wanting to weigh his answer before spouting it out.
“Me faither,” he finally admitted, “he wasnae the kind of laird I have been. He made things difficult for our clan.”
Michael simply nodded.
Arthur appreciated it when the man didn’t press any further.
Freya, who was seated between Michael and a young man who bore a striking resemblance to the leader of the clan, leaned in and whispered something in her husband’s ear. It drew his attention away from Arthur, and for that, he was grateful.
Now it was Arthur’s turn to turn and glance at Marissa.
Just as he’d imagined, she was watching him. Her eyes were glimmering with interest, and he grinned.
“Enjoyin’ the show, lass?”
Marissa snorted a laugh. “Ye’re handlin’ yerself well, that’s for sure.”
Before he could say anything else, a young man’s voice filled the space, halting all conversation at the head table.
“Maither, who is that?”
Arthur glanced down the table, finding the young man pointing a thumb in his direction.
The young man was staring in his direction with open curiosity and something that Arthur could have sworn was hostility.
“Cody,” Freya admonished, seeming shocked that the young man had spoken so loudly and so abruptly. “It isnae polite to point. And that’s yer auntie Marissa’s betrothed. I told ye we were celebratin’ them tonight.”
“Ye dinnae seem to be dressed for a celebration,” Cody mused, a cruel smirk dancing on his face as he eyed Arthur’s dirty clothes.
Beside him, Marissa sputtered as she choked on her drink. Michael and Freya looked horrified. But Arthur didn’t so much as flinch as he faced Cody and gave him his best, most confident grin.
“It’s because I just got back from the war, lad,” he said, imbuing each syllable with confidence and a challenge.
The young man bristled at the use of the word ‘lad.’ Based on his still round cheeks and the hubris with which he’d approached the conversation, Arthur estimated he couldn’t be more than eighteen. So a lad, indeed.
“War?” Cody echoed as he cocked his head to the side.
“Aye,” Arthur said. “A brutal one, it was. But me clan won it in the end. And then I kenned I couldnae wait to see yer aunt, to finally see me betrothed. So I rode straight here. I didnae bring me things, as I didnae think yer maither and faither would be so kind as to invite a stranger to stay and dine with them. That’s why I’m still dirty. ”
Cody nodded, his jaw ticking as he chewed on his lip.
Arthur had been like him once. The son of a laird. Cocksure but without the life experience to back it up. He knew the young man was likely used to pressing buttons. Lord knows that Arthur had been at that age.
“Enough of all this,” Freya called out, clapping her hands together to get the attention of one of the men at a nearby table. “I think it’s time for music!”
The man nodded, immediately getting up and rallying some of the other men around the hall. Various instruments were plucked from where they’d been stowed in one of the corners, and soon music filled the air.
Bagpipes and fiddles lilted, and slowly tables were moved to create a small dance floor. It filled quickly with couples, and Arthur couldn’t help but grin.
“It’s been a while since I last saw somethin’ like this,” he said, gesturing toward the revelry.
He’d said the words to himself, but it didn’t stop Marissa from chiming in.
“Nae a lot of time to enjoy yerself when ye’re at war, I suppose.”
Turning to glance at her, Arthur found her still watching him with an open, interested expression. “Ye suppose right.”
Silence fell between them as they both turned to watch the crowd. They watched the people move, their feet a blur as couples danced to and fro.
The music filled Arthur’s chest, making him feel alive in a way he hadn’t since the start of the war.
This is what I was fightin’ for. So me clan could continue on and do things like this.
The fact that he wasn’t home with them chafed him. He had been away from them for long enough. But he would be leaving in the morning, and he would be bringing Marissa along with him.
As if the thought alone had conjured her, Marissa swayed into his field of vision.
Arthur had been so distracted by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed as Cody moved from his chair, nor when he pulled his betrothed onto the dance floor.
The pair spun and twirled, laughing loudly at one thing or the other.
“He’s a good lad, that one,” Michael mused, nodding his head in the direction of Cody and Abigail.
“Seems like it,” Arthur murmured, hoping the other Laird didn’t hear the lie in his voice.
He paused for a moment. There was something he had been wondering about throughout the night but hadn’t had the opportunity to ask about yet.
But Michael seemed like the amenable type. So, he decided to risk it.
“Freya seems quite young to—” Arthur began, but Michael quickly cut him off.
“Nae, he isnae Freya’s,” he explained hastily. “I was married before. She passed before I met Freya. A fire.”
Arthur dipped his head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Michael looked at him with no hint of sadness in his eyes, only a deep acceptance. “It’s been a long time.”
“Doesnae always cure things,” Arthur explained. “Especially nae when it comes to matters of the heart.”
Michael shook his head. “It wasnae like that with us. We were friendly and respected each other. But there was nay love between us.”
“Still,” Arthur persisted, “doesnae make it easier. It also must’ve been hard for the bairn.” He nodded his head in Cody’s direction.
Michael barked a laugh. “Aye,” he responded. “Nae that he would admit it. Headstrong, he is. But he is fiercely protective of the lasses.”
“Marissa?”
Michael nodded. “And Abigail. The younger sister that was sittin’ beside her and is now out there twirlin’ with them.”
Arthur turned his attention toward the dance floor. Sure enough, the young woman he had spotted sitting beside Marissa and looking at him quizzically was dancing with them.
“They’re close, then?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
He wanted to know more about the woman he was going to marry. He had read as many of the letters as he could as he traveled toward Castle McEwan. But there was still so much more to learn.
“Aye, as thick as can be.” Once again, Michael pointed toward the trio dancing in the center of the dance floor.
“The boy considers them his sisters, even though they’re technically his aunts.
Abigail and Cody are just a year apart—only a few years younger than Marissa.
They leaned on each other as we all got used to one another after the marriage. ”
Arthur nodded.
When Cody had first challenged him, he’d thought the lad had been jealous. He’d had no idea of the family connection between them.
He wasn’t entirely certain it changed the way he felt about the entire interaction, nor did it change the way he felt about the young man. Arthur had never taken kindly to jealousy, or people who were overly attached to things that were his.
And if he was to marry Marissa, that would make her his.
With that thought echoing in his mind, Arthur excused himself from the table and made his way to the dance floor.
In the short time that the music had been playing, the space had filled. The throngs of bodies closed in on him as he made his way to where he’d last seen Marissa.
At first, he thought it would be near impossible to find her as he made his way through the crowd. She’d been easy enough to spot while outside the dance floor. But now that he was in it, it was chaos.
The heat of many bodies pressed in on him, sweat breaking out along his back.
Still, Arthur searched for her. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking anywhere that he could for a glimpse of her auburn curls. But no matter where he looked, there was no sign of her.
Just when he thought that it was a lost cause and that he would have to exit the crowd and regroup, a gap between two groups of people formed.
Marissa was standing directly in the center of it. She had her dress hiked up around her shins, her feet moving in a blur as she and Abigail spun while Cody clapped his hands. The smile on her face was radiant, lighting her up from within as it threatened to split her cheeks.
Arthur’s heart pounded as he stepped forward. Marissa must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye because she stopped mid-spin.
She swayed a little on her feet, likely dizzy from all the twirling and the dancing. But the smile did not fade from her face.
She locked eyes with him, and he felt as if he’d been struck by lightning. Marissa grinned at him as he made his way toward her.
Christ, she is bonnie.
Her nephew and sister noticed that she had stopped moving, the two of them sharing a confused look before following her gaze. As they realized where she was looking, Cody’s eyebrows dipped, but Abigail grinned.
Cody leaned in and said something in Marissa’s ear, but she only shook her head.
He willnae stop me from dancin’ with her. I dare the lad to try.
Thankfully, though, it did not come to that. As Arthur approached, Marissa said something to her nephew, and he blessedly didn’t argue with her. He simply took a step back and stood shoulder to shoulder with Abigail, the three of them watching every move that Arthur made.
“Fancy seein’ ye out on the dance floor,” Marissa called when Arthur was within earshot.
There was a teasing gleam in her soft brown eyes, one that made him want to pull her close. He wanted to know how it would feel to have her body melded to his. He wanted to know how it would feel to experience the way she moved.
“It’s me turn now, lad,” Arthur said, giving Cody a pointed look.
The young man didn’t argue. Not that Arthur would have given him the option to. Instead, he simply wrapped his arm around Marissa’s waist, reveling in the warmth of her as he tucked her into his side.
She seemed hesitant as he began guiding her through the crowd. He wanted to get her to a more secluded part of the dance floor, away from the center, where she, Cody, and Abigail had been dancing.
Arthur glanced at her, surprised to see a stubborn look on her face.
“So, are ye just assumin’ I’ll dance with ye?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Or are ye actually goin’ to ask?”
A cocky smirk tugged up the corner of his mouth. “Why would I ask when I already ken the answer, wee kitten?” He tugged on her hand, trying to lead her toward the spot he’d been eyeing. “Now, let’s go. We’ve got dancin’ to do.”