Chapter Thirty
Alpin lowered his sword, a stunned expression on his face at Eilidh’s selfless act. Awareness dawning on his face. Stepping back, watching as Torquil gathered Eilidh in his arms, Alpin said, “Then mayhap ye’re both mad enough to deserve each other.” Shaking his head, he walked away.
Torquil tightened his grip around Eilidh. “Dinnae e’er put yerself in such a dangerous situation again, Firebrand. I couldnae bear to see ye hurt.”
Around them he saw Moira sigh in relief. Morven had a huge, kenning smile on her face. Rory looked pleased with the outcome, and even Errol nodded, barely hiding his smile.
He turned his attention back to Eilidh. “Please promise me ye will ne’er, e’er, do something so foolish again.
” He swept the hair that had loosened from her braid behind her ears and captured her mouth in a kiss.
Relief flooding through him that hopefully, now, all of the uncertainty would be past them.
Eilidh wrapped her arms around him, and he hissed as she made contact with his wound.
She broke the kiss, her brows drawn down in concern as she studied his shoulder.
“We cannae be standing here whilst ye bleed to death,” she scolded.
“We must get ye inside and treated.” She turned him toward the castle.
“Morven, run ahead and get the healer,” she ordered.
Morven did as she was told, and he and Eilidh followed.
Rory fell into step beside them. “Ye showed yer strength and proved yer worth. Welcome to the family.” With a curt nod and a small smile, he walked ahead.
Torquil smiled. He kenned it was Rory’s acceptance that Eilidh wished for the most. Kenning that he had that now, felt as if all was right in the world. The healer rushed out the door as they neared.
“Bring him to my room,” she ordered, her gray hair pulled neatly back into a tight braid.
She shook her head in annoyance. “I will ne’er understand why ye men must do such things.
’Tis a ridiculous and barbaric show of muscle.
And we wonder why the English call us barbarians.
” She pointed to Torquil’s shoulder. “This. This would be why. Sit,” she ordered.
Torquil did as he was told, ducking his head so his hair would fall into his face and hide his amusement. The healer wasn’t wrong.
“Off with the tunic so I can see the damage yer antics have created.”
Torquil liked her fire even though she was scolding him at the same time she was caring for him.
Lily, the healer, had been with the family since the Hart children were bairns, Torquil learned from Eilidh as she helped him out of his tunic. The movement causing him to wince.
He looked around the room. Dried herbs hung in clusters from the ceiling. Pots and cauldrons lined the shelves filled with elixirs and salves.
Lily clucked her tongue as her fingers prodded at the wound on Torquil’s shoulder first, making him wince. “I will need to stitch this one for certs.
The bleeding had slowed, which he was thankful for. He hadn’t wanted to actually die by Alpin’s hand, though he had been willing.
As Lily cleansed the wound with a cloth soaked in warm water and some type of salve, she continued to ramble on about the stupidity of men. He could not say she was wrong.
“Eilidh, go fetch the strongest ale we have on hand.”
Eilidh paused, and she looked like she didn’t want to leave. “I will be fine. Ye willnae be gone long.”
She nodded and hurried out the door.
“Was it worth it?” Lily asked, moving to a counter and preparing a needle and thread.
“Aye,” Torquil answered quickly. “I would have done aught.”
Lily smiled and patted his other shoulder. “’Tis nice to see Eilidh smile. I believe I have seen her smile more since ye have entered her life, than all her years previous.”
That statement brought a smile to his own lips. “Thank ye.”
“Una says this is as strong an ale that we have,” Eilidh announced as she returned.
“Good,” Lily said, and turned to Torquil. “Drink up.”
He did as he was told. The ale was slightly bitter, but on his empty stomach, he felt some of the tension release from his body.
“This will still pinch.”
The healer was not lying.
“I am fine, Firebrand,” Torquil said later in Eilidh’s bedchamber.
“Ye must rest. Ye were hurt.”
“’Twas a just cut,” he insisted.
Eilidh crossed her arms as she stood over him. “Ye have two cuts. And they werenae merely cuts, as ye say. Both required numerous stitches.”
He reached out and pulled on her hand, forcing her to uncross her arms and drew her closer. “I appreciate yer concern. But I am weel. I promise ye.”
She looked at him, unconvinced.
He pulled her down, placing a kiss on her lips. “’Tis no’ as bad as it looks.”
“I beg to differ,” she said against his mouth. “There was so much blood.” She dropped onto the bed beside him and leaned into his good shoulder.
“Only due to the placement of the cut.”
“There is to be a celebration this eve,” she said, changing the subject.
Torquil hoped it was due to her letting go of her fashing. “Is there? What for?”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Us.”
He could not hide his surprise. “Truly? Who is hosting such an event?” He couldn’t imagine anyone planning such a thing for them, even if he had finally won Alpin’s favor.
“Ma and Da. ’Tis to celebrate our wedding.”
His eyes rounded, not kenning what to say.
“Ye look flabbergasted.”
“I am,” he admitted.
“There is more,” she said, her gaze falling to the floor afore meeting his once again. “Laird MacGregor will be in attendance. Da said he has explained the situation.”
Torquil winced. His cousin. With all that was going on here, he forgot about the ramifications of what would happen back home. He sighed. “That could be interesting.”
Eilidh shifted on the bed. “But ’tis good, aye? When was the last time Harts and MacGregors have been in the same room? To celebrate, no less.”
“Ne’er that I can remember.”
“Exactly. We are bridging the divide betwixt our two clans.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I admire yer enthusiasm. I cannae begin to foretell the outcome, but we will find out soon enough, aye?”
Later, as they readied themselves for the celebration that would bring the Harts and MacGregors together, Torquil could not help but find himself fashing over what the meeting would be.
He also was not privy to the information that his cousin and Arthur had exchanged. How long had they been communicating?
“Ye look quite fetching,” Eilidh complimented him wrapping her arms gently around his waist.
“And ye look beautiful.” He kissed her head and wrapped his good arm around her shoulders. His movements a little stiff. Her gown was a deep blue with green accents. It reminded him of their eyes. Eilidh’s blue. His green.
“Shall we?” he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.
Downstairs, everyone was gathered in the Great Hall.
The tables had been rearranged to allow for a more intimate gathering.
Torquil was surprised to not only see his cousin, but also Evander and Callum.
The three men watched them as they entered the hall, and for a brief moment, Torquil’s heart seemed to seize.
Eilidh must have sensed his shift, and squeezed his hand in encouragement.
Laird MacGregor’s gaze bore into him as he and Eilidh drew closer.
“So, this is the lass that has captured yer heart? And made ye forget all rational thought,” Seamus added, his face serious.
Torquil swallowed, but straightened. “Aye. Let me introduce ye to Eilidh Ha—” he paused, catching himself, “Eilidh MacGregor.”
For a long moment Seamus only stared at them, unmoving. Finally, he nodded. “’Tis a pleasure, Eilidh.”
Torquil felt the need to explain himself. “My laird, if I may have a word.”
Seamus shook his head. “I have been made weel aware of the situation. From Fergus, from Callum,” he looked over at Torquil’s brother, a dismissive look on his face, “and finally, from Laird Hart.” He paused. “But, e’en afore those conversations, I was made aware of the possibility.”
Torquil was confused. How could his cousin have kenned aforehand?
Seamus clapped his hand on Evander’s shoulder. “Yer brother let me know a Hart lassie had caught yer interest. That ’twasnae a casual intrigue.”
Torquil’s gaze slipped to his brother, who smiled tightly and shrugged. “Ye were lost from the first moment yer eyes met hers. ’Twas inevitable where ’twas headed.”
He was speechless.
Arthur cleared his throat. “I would like to say, now that I have three children married, and with each union I have had to somehow placate another clan to keep the peace, I can only hope that when my other two decide to marry, they follow common decorum in doing so.”
Laughter filled the hall, breaking the tension, and Torquil felt himself relax a bit.
After a meal of perfectly stewed meats, roasted vegetables, and decadent sweets, they all gathered round the hearth, where Torquil had noticed his lute and Eilidh’s fiddle had been set at a prominent spot.
With a dip of their heads in silent agreement, they both retrieved their instruments.
Together, they began to play their song—the one he wrote, the one she finished.
Unlike their melancholy melodies of the past, this one was full of life, full of wonder.
It brought a smile to their faces and those in attendance as they watched them play.
Lillias wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she tapped her foot. Even Alpin, who had sat stoically all through the meal, remaining quiet and closed off, seemed to relax a bit.
When the song ended, Eilidh and Torquil came together in a kiss. In front of everyone. No shame, no fear. Only love shining bright in the night.
The fire crackled, and Torquil whispered in Eilidh’s ear, “I think they finally see us.”
Eilidh smiled and replied, “Nay. Now they hear us.”