Chapter Fifteen
Eilidh looked up from the spot near the hearth where she was sitting when she heard the door open.
She didn’t ken who she was expecting, Torquil or Fergus, but she for certs had not expected to see Morven walk in the door.
She pushed up from the floor and ran to her sister, wrapping her arms around her.
“How are ye here?” Eilidh asked when she finally let go of Morven and stepped back.
“Fergus.”
Eilidh sucked in a breath and began to wring her hands, fear overcoming her. “What did Ma and Da say?”
Morven looked around the small cottage, taking everything in from the small table that still held Eilidh and Torquil’s cups from the night afore, to the sparsely furnished living area.
“’Tis cozy here,” she said, ignoring Eilidh’s question.
“So, this is where ye have been sneaking off to all these past days.”
“No’ quite.”
Her sister raised a brow in question and waited for her to continue.
Clasping her hands in front of her, Eilidh began to pace the small space.
“There is a glen nearby. ’Tis where I first met up with Torquil.
I had left Hartsmoor with the intention of finding him and I did.
I didnae find his home until sometime later and I had no intention of staying the night,” she added quickly.
She waited for her sister’s response, her stomach churning like the waters tumbling over the falls. Why had she not spoken of their parents?
“But ye did.”
Eilidh was confused. “Did what?”
“Stayed the night.” Morven rolled her eyes as if she were daft and could not understand the simplest questions.
She nodded. “Aye. I was on my way home, after meeting with Torquil, I will admit. Howe’er the storm came upon me fierce and strong, and I was much closer to here than home, so I turned around and sought shelter.”
Morven smirked. “Considering the circumstances in which ye find yerself, ’tis no’ all ye sought.”
Eilidh poked her sister’s arm. “Dinnae say such things. ’Tis no like that in the verra least.”
With a shrug, Morven said, “So ye say. Tell me exactly what happened then.”
“No’ until ye tell me what Ma and Da have said.” She began to wring her hands again, worrying her lower lip so fiercely she tasted blood.
“They dinnae ken.”
Eilidh’s eyes blew wide in shock. How did her parents not ken? How did Morven come without raising any suspicion?
“How?” Was the only question Eilidh could muster.
“For whate’er reason, Fergus decided that he wouldnae divulge yer secrets. He pulled me to the side, and told me to meet ye here, and provided directions. I had nay idea I would be venturing into MacGregor lands. Really, Eilidh, what were ye thinking?”
She laughed in answer. She could not help it. The reason she was in the situation she found herself in was because she had not been thinking—at least not with her brain. Her heart, her body. Aye. Both had completely taken over her movements and actions when it came to Torquil.
Morven pulled her over to the chairs in front of the hearth, and they both sat down. “Now, tell me what has happened.” Her face had grown serious and Eilidh wondered if her younger sister was going to be more like their brothers and harder to get to understand where she was coming from.
With a sigh, she told Morven about the first time their gazes had clashed at the gathering those weeks ago, and how, since then, she had been unable to get Torquil out of her mind.
How she had used the excuse that she was practicing to find him, and after she had done so, to meet with him in secret where they shared searing kisses, which, soon turned into something more.
Her sister’s eyes widened in shock. “That is why the villagers speak ill of ye, ye ken. They will go mad with this turnaboot.”
Why was it that every time something happened with her, her family had to bring up the gossiping villagers that kenned naught of how Eilidh truly was? Irritation filled her, and she pushed off the chair, her fists clenched at her sides as she paced the floor.
“Afore, their veiled whispers were naught but rumors that they had concocted in their heads for whate’er reason.
Whether it be jealousy o’er my music that they couldnae stand such a thing, so a few started talking and then it only grew from there.
” She threw her hands up in exasperation.
“I havenae any idea what sparked them to start saying such things. I only ken that what they said I did, I didnae. But now? Weel, at least if they continue to talk, they will be speaking the truth.”
Morven gasped. “’Tis true then? Ye and Torquil MacGregor.” She leaned toward Eilidh and lowered her voice. “Ye two have lain together?”
Eilidh would not deny it, nor did she regret it. She straightened her back and pushed back her shoulders. “We have. More than once, I will admit.”
She waited for Morven’s reaction, expecting to see shame cross her face. Instead, her sister surprised her by smiling and nodded. “I kenned there was someone ye were fancy on.”
With a sigh of relief, Eilidh chuckled. “But look where it has gotten me,” she mumbled.
Morven clapped. “Aye. ’Tis gotten ye wed to the man that ye—wait, do ye love him?”
She couldn’t stop the smile that ticked up the corners of her mouth. She couldn’t ignore the fluttery feeling that she got when Torquil was near.
“Ye neednae say a word,” Morven announced, slapping her knee. “Yer face says it all.”
“He doesnae want to marry me, though.” Eilidh started pacing the floor again.
“He has agreed. There is nay doubt there, but ’tis no’ because he wants to.
He is being forced. I dinnae feel that is right.
I told him he could say no, that I would understand.
” She paused. She was rambling, words spilling from her mouth.
Morven approached and grabbed Eilidh by the shoulders, forcing her to meet her eyes.
“I dinnae ken that is the case at all. He is quite infatuated with ye. Spend one minute with him and one would have to be blind no’ to see.
” She squeezed Eilidh’s arms. “Now,” she moved to the sack she had brought with her.
“I didnae have a lot of time afore I had to leave, so all I have with me was grabbed in haste.” She pulled out a deep-blue gown and held it out to Eilidh, following with a matching pair of slippers.
“’Tis no’ a wedding gown and may no’ be what ye expected to be married in, but ye have always looked beautiful in this gown. Torquil will love it.”
*
The next morning, the wedding was held at a stone altar in the woods halfway betwixt MacGregor and Hart lands.
The ceremony was quick and quiet. In attendance, was only Morven and Callum, serving as witnesses, along with the clergy man officiating the union.
Fergus stood to the side, ensuring that they were going through with his demands.
Eilidh wore the gown Morven had brought, but unlike the wedding she had dreamt of, she held nay flowers. There was nay music serenading in the background, just her breath and the sound of the wind.
Torquil had remained silent the night afore.
She and Morven had slept in the one bed together, whilst he slept on the floor near the hearth.
Eilidh had refused, but he insisted. It was just one more thing she felt horrible about.
Not only was he being forced to wed her, he had also been forced out of his own bedchamber.
Never had she thought she would uproot his life in such a way.
Beside her, Torquil gently took her hand in his, and Eilidh’s heart ached with the weight of it all. As they spoke their vows, her mind raced with her kenning he was only going through this ceremony because of her honor and reputation. Not because he wanted to.
His touch was warm as he stroked her hand, but his expression was guarded, as if he were holding something back.
Just what that was, she was unsure. The one thing she kenned to be true to fact was that he was an honorable man for stepping up to do what he was doing.
And she hated that he would forever hold that against her.
When the officiant declared them husband and wife, there was no applause. No cheering. The silence was thunderous. They kissed each other’s lips softly, barely touching. She was unsure if it was for them or for show.
Fergus nodded, happy that his demand had been met. “Now ’tis up to ye to make yer families aware. I wish ye weel in that endeavor.” He left, guiding the clergy man through the woods and back to wherever he had found him.
Torquil scoffed.
Morven approached them tentatively, first hugging Eilidh tightly. “Congratulations,” she whispered in her ear. Then she offered a hug to Torquil. “Welcome to the family. I wish ye luck with them.” She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
It worked a wee bit to lessen the tension that had hung above them all morn like the heaviest of rain clouds.
“But truly. I wish ye both a blessed life of happiness.”
Callum was next, shaking Torquil’s hand, offering his own congratulations.
“The future will indeed be of interest in the next few weeks.” He hugged Eilidh, a little stiffly, but she held nay resentment.
She understood the awkwardness of the situation.
He turned to Morven. “Since Fergus has left, allow me to escort ye home? Or, at the verra least, close to it, so ye return safely.”
Morven nodded afore saying her goodbyes. “Whose family are ye going to tell first?” she asked.
Eilidh looked at Torquil. “’Tis up to ye, Firebrand.”
She smiled at his use of the nickname. It had been a couple of days since he had called her by the moniker. “I suppose, ’twould be most beneficial to go to Hartsmoor first since my parents had wondered where I was and sent out a search party. Also, hence our current predicament.”
Torquil nodded and Eilidh wasn’t sure if it was because he was agreeing to her reasoning or agreeing because that was the reason why they were now wed.
“We will travel to Hartsmoor on the morrow.”
Morven dipped her head. “I will continue to keep yer secret until then and, Eilidh, ye have my support.”
Eilidh hugged her sister once more. “Thank ye. Now, go. Thank ye, Callum, for ensuring her safety. That means much to me.”
She and Torquil watched them leave, disappearing through the trees. For a long while, they both stood there, not moving. Not saying a word.
A breeze passed through, rustling the branches, and stirring the leaves. Eilidh couldn’t help but make the comparison to an omen. A glimpse into what their life would look like.
Torquil placed his arm lightly around her shoulders. “Let us go home,” he said gently.
Home.
It did not seem possible that Hartsmoor was no longer her home. That it was in Torquil’s cottage that they would build their life together.
As they walked away from the altar, the weight of her new name—she was nay longer Eilidh Hart, now she was Eilidh MacGregor—settled around her like the heaviest of cloaks.
She told herself that with this union, she was free. Free from the overbearing and watchful eye of her family. Free from the gossip and rumors. But somehow it didn’t feel like it.
Inside, they drank cups of heather ale, a gift from Callum, that Torquil had poured as they sat in front of the hearth. Neither spoke. Just stared at the flames as they licked up the stones.
Finally, Torquil spoke. “How do yer nerves fare?”
“My nerves? ’Tis no’ like we havenae shared a bed afore. What an odd question.”
“I wasnae referring to that, but to ye returning to yer home.”
Eilidh felt her face flame. Of course that was what he meant. What he must think of her for her mind to go straight to their coupling.
“I fear the morrow will be wrought with conflict. My family willnae be happy with the events that have passed this morn. My brothers and brother-in-law, weel, they are as pigheaded as can be.”
Torquil nodded. “I am prepared for their reactions. ’Twill come as a surprise. None of us could foresee this happening.”
A sense of melancholy filled Eilidh that she did not want to give voice to.
She stood up. “Have ye eaten?” She kenned the answer.
He had not. Neither had she. She busied herself in the small kitchen.
She had never cooked aught in her life, thanks to Una’s impressive cooking skills.
But now, she realized how much of a disadvantage that put her in.
Torquil came up behind her as she added oats to a pot. “Have ye cooked afore?”
She hung her head. “Is it that obvious?”
He chuckled. “A wee bit. I am no’ much of a cook myself, but I can teach ye what I ken.” His face drew serious. “I fear I am unable to employ a cook myself.”
“We doonae need one,” she said quickly, and she meant it. “I would love to learn from ye.”
Together they made porridge and warmed bread. They sat across from each other to eat.
The rest of the day they spent lost in their own minds. Thinking of what would happen on the morrow.
That night, Eilidh curled into Torquil as they lay in bed, his warm arms wrapped around her, as he drew lazy circles on her back.
His movements slowed and his breathing evened out, a soft snore escaping his lips.
She closed her eyes, and whispered, “I just wish ye’d chosen me.”