Chapter Twenty-Five
Eilidh walked the perimeter of the outer wall, relishing in the fresh air and reliving the night she and Torquil had shared the night afore. It was their first time lying together as husband and wife. And it was wonderful. Far exceeding any expectations she might have had.
Torquil was caring and compassionate, and ensured her needs were met.
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard Alpin approach.
“We need to talk,” he said, his tone serious, and he pulled her to the side.
She tried to hide her irritation as she crossed her arms and pierced him with a glare. “What do ye want now, Alpin? I was having a lovely stroll until ye so rudely interrupted.”
He returned her glare as he looked down at her. “Ye’re married, aye, but yer loyalty’s split.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I ken no’ what ye speak of.” She moved to walk around him, but he grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“Ye stand by him, or ye stand by us,” he ordered. “There is nay in betwixt.”
“Ye cannae be serious.” She reeled. After everything she had been through to find her own happiness, why could he not just be happy for her?
She had dealt with her ruined reputation, no matter that said ruin was completely untrue, and in marrying Torquil, she was giving up everything she had kenned whilst living at Hartsmoor—she would not be living a castle with people to cook and clean for her.
Nay. She and Torquil will live in his quaint cottage where she would grow a garden and learn to cook.
She was being humbled and was comforted in that fact because it allowed her to love freely.
“I am a Hart,” she stated firmly. “That willnae change. And I am Torquil’s wife, which also makes me a MacGregor. I willnae choose betwixt the two.”
Alpin spat on the ground. “Ye are being naive. No’ understanding the ways of the world. Ye talk aboot love as if naught else matters. Ye think it can erase centuries?”
“Ye think bitterness can build a future?” She threw the words back at him. “Ye are being so obtuse. Just because ye and Effie are nay longer courting—at yer behest might I remind ye—doesnae mean that the rest of us need to be miserable right along with ye. I willnae. I refuse to.”
“So instead ye choose to lay with the enemy?”
Eilidh had reared her fist back, ready to punch Alpin in his smug face, when Morven stepped betwixt them, interjecting herself.
“Ye two need to cease. Ye are gathering attention.” She gestured over her shoulder and Eilidh could see a couple of clansmen that were watching them.
“And since I heard pretty much this whole ridiculous argument, I would like to say that once upon a time, music united clans, too.” She looked at Eilidh and smiled.
“Ye have found the perfect man for ye, sister. I ne’er could see ye with a warrior.
A musician the likes of Torquil is the perfect match.
” She turned to Alpin. “And ye. Just because ye are miserable doesnae mean the rest of us have to be right alongside with ye, just as Eilidh said. And ye can go on and on aboot the MacGregors. But we havenae had any true fights with them for years. If ye can get o’er Errol marrying Moira, Eilidh and Torquil should pose nay issue. ”
“I willnae abandon my family or my husband,” Eilidh insisted.
Her words hung heavy in the air as she spoke.
“If ye love me, then ye love all of me. Including who I have chosen to spend my life with.” She pushed past Alpin, trembling, unsure if he would ever forgive her, but she kenned she would not break herself in two.
It was unfair of him to present her with such an ultimatum. Even her da had not done such a thing.
She walked back inside, heading straight for her bedchamber.
Shutting the door behind her, she fell onto the bed and couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Why did her brother have to make things so difficult?
The door opened, then closed, and she felt the bed dip beside her.
Torquil.
She could smell his scent, and it immediately began to settle her nerves.
“What has happened?” he asked as he rubbed her back softly. “What makes ye cry?” He brushed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
She relayed the conversation she had had with Alpin. When she met his eyes, she saw the fury roiling within them, stormy as the sea.
“This has gone on long enough. I will speak with him.”
“Nay!” Eilidh cried. “I fear ’twill only make matters worse.”
“Weel, they arenae getting any better with how stubborn yer brother is being. And now he has ye upset and crying. I willnae have it. Here.” He tugged on her arm gently so she would sit up and wiped her tears away.
“Dinnae cry. It pains me to see ye hurt so.” Caressing her cheeks, he watched her, concern in his eyes.
“Where are yer sisters and yer mother?” he asked.
Eilidh shrugged. “Sewing, I suppose. That seems to be how they spend most of their days.”
“Go spend the afternoon with them.” He smiled. “I ken ye dinnae like to sew. But go with them. Have tea, talk. Watch them sew if that is what they insist on doing. Dinnae fash aboot Alpin. I will speak with him.” He stood from the bed and stopped when Eilidh grasped his hand.
“Torquil, please.”
He bent so he could look her in the eyes. “Ye are my wife, Eilidh. Yer happiness falls on me. I will ensure that ye dinnae spend another moment distressed.” He kissed her forehead and went to the door. “Promise me ye will seek out yer sisters.”
The way he watched her, waiting for an answer, she saw Torquil beyond the musician that she kenned him to be. He was fierce. And that fierceness was in the name of her happiness. He was passionate about the things he loved—his music, and her.
Aye, he loved her. She saw it in his eyes whenever he looked at her. She was shocked that she never noticed it afore.
How could she not love this man?
She nodded. “I promise.”
With a dip of his head, he disappeared down the hall.
Waiting a few moments so that the redness that was surely tinging her cheeks from her cry would lessen, she sat on the bed, thinking about the conversation that Torquil was planning to have with Alpin, and started to fash anew.
She only hoped that somehow, he could talk some sense into her pig-headed brother.