Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next morn, Eilidh woke in sated bliss after another night of she and Torquil exploring each other’s bodies.
She was for certs that by now, she kenned every inch of his skin.
Every scar. Every muscle. The way they contracted when she gently ran her fingers over them.
The way he hissed when she placed her lips on his chest.
She stretched with a sigh, feeling serene and loved. Beside her, Torquil reached out and pulled her into him, kissing her neck.
Completely content, she looked forward to the day ahead. There was naught that could ruin this feeling she had.
A knock sounded, and they both groaned.
“Who could that be?” she said aloud, not expecting anyone. “Go away,” she called out, turning so she could face Torquil. She smiled. His hair was mussed from sleep, his eyes still heavy.
The knock sounded again. “Miss Eilidh,” Joan called out. “I have a message of importance.”
Eilidh sighed.
“Can it no’ wait?” She did not want to leave the warmth of Torquil’s arms.
“I am afraid no’. I am sorry to disturb ye.”
“Fine,” Eilidh grumbled, leaving the heat of Torquil’s body, and slipped on her robe, cinching it tight around her waist.
She cracked the door open. Joan stood on the other side, looking uncomfortable. “I didnae wish to disturb ye, but yer brother insisted I get this to Master Torquil straightaway.” She handed the missive to Eilidh. “Will ye ensure that he gets it?”
Eilidh nodded, confused.
Joan curtsied and hurried away.
Closing the door, she turned the note over in her hand.
“What is it?” Torquil asked from the bed.
“A missive. For ye.”
Torquil sat up, his brows drawing down. “Me?” He pushed his hair out of his face. “Who is sending me a missive?”
“My brother,” Eilidh said quietly.
“Read it,” Torquil prompted. “I have naught to hide from ye,” he said as he stood and splashed water on his face and hair from the basin, then proceeded to dress.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to ken what was inside. Why would one of her brothers send Torquil a message? Why not just come talk to him? A feeling of foreboding washed over her.
“Are ye going to read it?” Torquil asked, standing beside her.
Nodding, she broke the Hart wax seal and unfolded the parchment. She recognized Alpin’s scrawl straightaway.
“Torquil MacGregor,” she began. “For acts against my sister, Eilidh Hart, I present ye this formal challenge in her honor. A duel at sunrise on the morn.” Eilidh gasped, and she clamped her hand over her mouth in horror. “Nay! What is he thinking? Is he mad?” She spun to Torquil.
He said naught. Only plucked the message from her hands and read it silently to himself. Then aloud, finishing what she had not. “No one is to interfere.” He nodded as if accepting.
She shook her head in disbelief.
“Ye cannae. I will get to the bottom of this.” She pulled open the door, intent on finding her brother.
“I doonae need ye fighting for me, Firebrand.”
“That,” she pointed to the parchment in his hands, “is unnecessary and uncalled for.” She ran down the hall, ignoring Torquil’s calls for her to return.
The castle felt cold, unbearable. As if the walls were closing in on her as she searched for Alpin.
She finally found him on his way outside.
Without thinking she ran to him, tackling him with as much strength as she could muster.
He barely budged and instead gave her a bored look. “Good morn, sister.”
She slapped his arm. “Dinnae give me any of yer false cheeriness, brother. What have ye done?” she asked furiously.
He shrugged, ignoring her outburst. “I need to ken if Torquil is man enough to bleed for ye.”
“Ye will kill him!” she shouted, ignoring the looks of servants who popped their heads into the corridor to see what all the ruckus was about.
“At least he will prove his love then, will he no’?”
“Ye cannae be serious. Call this off. Right this instant,” she demanded.
He pierced her with a fierce glare. “I willnae.” Then moving her to the side, he left the castle.
Throwing her hands up in frustration, she raced back to her chamber, ignoring Morven when she called out to her asking what was amiss.
“Ye must refuse,” she ordered Torquil as soon as she closed the door behind her. “Ye must,” she repeated, fear clawing at her throat.
“Ye ken I cannae, Firebrand.” He moved to wrap his arms around her, but she pushed him away.
“This isnae love—’tis pride. And stubbornness,” she cried.
Torquil’s response was quiet, but for certs. “This isnae about honor—’tis aboot showing Alpin that I willnae run.”
“But I want ye to run! Ye doonae have to participate.” She searched his face, looking to see if she was getting through, but he remained stoic. “I will go to Da,” she announced.
“Nay! Ye willnae.” He pushed his hands through his hair.
Frustration making his face red as their argument grew raw.
“How do ye expect me to win any respect with yer brother if ye run to yer father on my behest? ’Twillnae.
” He grasped her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “Eilidh, listen to me.”
She felt the pinch of his fingers and wriggled free. “I dinnae care to listen to someone who is going to make such foolish decisions. He will kill ye.”
Torquil shook his head. “I dinnae believe he will go so far as that. He is trying to prove a point. And though I may be a musician, I ken how to swing a sword. I usually choose no’ to.”
Eilidh shook her head, not wanting to hear what he was saying. Frustrated that he was not listening to her. Frustrated that he was fine in agreeing to this farce with her brother. Frustrated at how powerless she felt in a world where men will fight to the death over a woman.
“I cannae bear this. The thought of losing ye is too much. O’er something so ridiculous hurts e’en more.”
For the first time, Torquil raised his voice. “I am doing this for ye!”
“And I am asking ye no’ to!” Realizing that she was going to get nowhere in getting Torquil to refuse, she stormed out of the room, angry tears welling in her eyes as her heart hurt in her chest, and as terror over what may happen overtook her.
She escaped to the last place anyone would look for her.
Making her way deep into the belly of the castle, she slid open the door to the antechamber that held the Hart annals.
The room was cool, but she ignored that as she lit a torch on the wall and dropped into a chair, cradling her head as she cried freely.
Loudly, kenning no one would hear her down here.
It was some time afore she heard footsteps outside the door. She clamped her mouth shut, trying not to make a sound, and hoped whoever it was would continue on their way.
Instead, the door pushed open and Moira dipped her head inside, a somber smile on her face. “I have been looking e’erywhere for ye. Many of us have. Good choice on a hiding space.”
Eilidh swiped at her tears, drying her hands on her skirts. “Go away,” she said like a petulant child.
Ignoring her, Moira entered the chamber and shut the door behind her. “What has happened?”
Eilidh scoffed. “Like ye dinnae ken.”
Moira grabbed her hand, closing her fingers around it. “I dinnae. Torquil has been looking for ye. Morven said ye were upset but dinnae ken why.”
Eilidh looked away. “Have ye no’ spoken to Alpin?”
Moira sighed. “Is this our brother’s doing?” she asked, irritation lacing her voice.
When Eildih remained silent, she said, “Choosing to be with someone that yer family has no’ chosen for ye is a difficult situation—for e’eryone involved.
Tempers flare, words are exchanged. In the end, those actions are out of caring and love, rather than hatred.
It wasnae easy for the family to accept Errol.
It wasnae easy for Errol to accept me at first. I felt like I was fighting for his love whilst I was fighting to resolve the rift betwixt our families. ”
Eilidh sniffed. “Alpin has challenged Torquil to a duel.”
Moira sucked in a surprised breath. “Nay.”
“Aye,” Eilidh nodded. “And Torquil willnae refuse. It matters naught that Alpin will kill him.”
“Eilidh,” Moira said. “Look at me,” she urged. When Eilidh met her gaze, she continued. “Once a challenge has been thrown down, one cannae refuse without being labeled a coward.”
“Then I will love a coward,” she said stubbornly.
Moira pressed her lips together and squeezed Eilidh’s hands.
“’Tis hard to love. But ’tis special when ’tis right.
What ye and Torquil share is real. ’Tis evident for anyone that looks upon ye.
Men are stubborn creatures that always move to violence to settle things.
We may no’ like it, but ’tis the way of things. ”
“’Tis daft, if ye ask me,” Eilidh muttered.
“Aye, ’tis. Verra much so. But both Alpin and Torquil are proud, prideful men.
Alpin has thrown e’erything he can think of at Torquil, and Torquil has stood strong.
This is the last piece that Alpin can throw at him so that he may prove himself.
If he refuses, he fails, and Alpin wins.
Dinnae let that happen to Torquil. Alpin willnae kill him as ye fear, but he wants to prove that Torquil will truly spill blood for ye. He will accept naught less.”
Moira moved her hands to Eilidh’s cheeks, wiping away her tears, then pushing her hair behind her ear.
“As hard as ’tis, ye need to let the men handle this as men do.” With a hand on her shoulder, Moira gave her a squeeze, then left her alone.
She understood what her sister was saying, but it didn’t mean that she had to accept it. Her stomach was in knots as she thought about all that could go wrong. She didn’t want a hero. She only wanted her husband. The musician that looked at her with passionate eyes.
Leaving the annals room, she crept to her chamber, carefully avoiding anyone.
The room was empty and she sat in the window, her stomach churning with unease as she thought of every scenario that could go wrong.
She watched until the day grew dark and the sun left the sky, praying that the next day would find Torquil well and unharmed and that it would not break her heart for good.