Chapter Twelve #2
She set down her cup. “Thank you for your help. We’d best be going now.” She stood abruptly and headed for the door. Andrea, looking a little startled, downed her whisky, then followed.
“If ye do decide to blast those pirates into smithereens, be sure to leave a few for me to curse!” Neil called after them.
Elise hurried outside without replying.
“Are ye all right?” Andrea asked, closing the door behind them and placing a hand on Elise’s shoulder. “Dinna pay any heed to Neil. He’s always been one for wild tales and tall stories.”
Elise managed a faint smile, but her thoughts were racing. If Neil’s tales were just that—wild stories with no truth to them—then why did it feel right? Familiar, even?
She turned and began trudging up the track. The sun was beginning to set, turning the sea to crimson. The tide was coming in and to Elise’s ears, its whispering voice seemed to be speaking secrets, if only she had the ears to hear. War Weavers. Was this the link she’d been missing?
They reached the keep as twilight settled over the sea. Torches burned bright along the walls of Dun Arach, their glow soft against the darkening sky. Laughter drifted from the courtyard—the sound of music and the rumble of barrels being rolled into place.
They joined the throng of people streaming from the village to the keep, each one carrying a lit torch so that the procession looked like a long golden snake slithering through the gates.
Inside, the courtyard had come alive. Villagers and castle inhabitants alike filled the space, passing around cups of mead, ale, and whisky and calling greetings to each other.
Excited children zoomed in and out of the throng, getting under everyone’s feet and having a whale of a time.
Elise hesitated on the threshold. The scene should have felt warm and welcoming.
Instead, she felt like she was gatecrashing someone else’s party.
For three days she’d been avoiding this.
Avoiding him. But now fate, or simple bad timing, had thrown her right into the middle of it all.
She tried to work her way through the crowd, intending to flee to her room, but someone pressed a drink into her hand.
“Here’s to our MacFinnan spellweaver! And to the harvest!”
Around her, others joined in the toast. Her cup gave off a sweet-honey smell. Elise sighed. She could hardly refuse her own toast, could she? Raising her cup in a salute, she took a taste. It went down way too easily. So did the second.
Warmth spread through her limbs, loosening the knot in her chest just a little.
As she downed the drink and someone poured her another, the world lost some of its sharpness.
She felt herself begin to relax. She even laughed when a group of children managed to steal an old man’s hat and he set off after them, roaring like a bull.
Then, at some unseen signal, a hush went through the crowd. Darkness had fallen now, and everyone began pressing towards the bonfire, indicating the celebrations were about to begin in earnest.
Oh no. Elise tried to push back, to get away, but it was too late.
The press of bodies carried her forward, closer to the bonfire. Torches were being passed from hand to hand now, the flames painting faces gold and copper in the night air. The bonfire was going to be lit. And that honor fell only to one man.
“Make way for the laird!” someone shouted.
The crowd parted slightly, and there he was.
Jamie.
Elise froze. He stood on the steps leading down from the keep and surveyed the crowd.
His pale hair caught the torchlight, and his expression was solemn as he gazed around, holding a flaming torch in one hand.
The crowd fell silent, the hush broken only by the hiss of the torches and the low sigh of wind off the sea.
Elise’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She hadn’t seen him up close since that day on the beach. Since the kiss.
God, that kiss.
She pushed the thought away. She would not think about that now.
Jamie walked down the steps into the crowd, and they parted to let him pass. Elise tried to shrink back as he approached the stacked wood of the bonfire and held his flaming brand up high.
“People of Islay! Men and women of the Isles!” His voice was strong and full of conviction.
The sound of it sent a delicious shiver across Elise’s skin despite her better judgment.
“Tonight we give thanks for what bounty the Isles have given us. For crops from the land and fish from the sea. For water from the streams and salt from the waves. The wheel has turned and now the year turns towards the dark time. The lean time. Tonight we bid farewell to the light, not in dread of what is to come, but in thanks for what has gone before. We are the people of the Isles! Saltwater runs in our veins and granite fills our bones! So drink, make merry, and dance for the turning of the year!”
He thrust his torch against the pyre and the wood took almost immediately, lighting with a whoosh that sent sparks curling up into the night air.
A thunderous cheer erupted, and the musicians began to play, drums, fiddle, and flute bashing out a merry tune that carried above the roar and crackle of the bonfire.
People grabbed partners or formed into circles to begin dancing.
She needed to get out of here. She turned—and found Jamie staring at her across the heads of the crowd.
All the air seemed to get sucked out of Elise’s lungs. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t look away.
Around her, the party got into full swing, but Elise felt as though her feet were glued to the spot. She saw his nostrils flare, his jaw clench, and then he was striding towards her, crossing the space between them in just a few easy strides.
He stopped less than a hand’s span away.
She had to crane her head back to look up at him.
His lips parted slightly, and she heard the hiss of his escaping breath as he gazed down at her.
His chest heaved and his fingers curled into fists as though he were deliberately stopping himself from reaching for her.
He cleared his throat. “Lady Elise MacFinnan,” he said formally, his voice low and edged with an undercurrent of something that made her skin tingle. “May I have this dance?”
Elise swallowed thickly. This was a bad idea. She’d been avoiding him for a reason. Whenever he was near, her commonsense flew right out of the window—just as it was doing now. She should leave.
But she found herself nodding.
Jamie took her hand, his grip warm and strong, and led her into the spinning rhythm of the dance. Around them, laughter and shouts echoed through the courtyard, but Jamie’s focus never left her. She followed his lead, moving through the steps without really noticing what she was doing.
“You shouldn’t be dancing with me,” she said. “People are staring. They’ll talk.”
His eyes never left her face. “Let them. The laird and the MacFinnan spellweaver. No doubt they are discussing what a fine match we make.”
That stole her breath for a second—long enough that she missed a step, her foot slipping in the dirt. Jamie caught her before she fell, his arm firm around her waist.
“Careful,” he murmured. “Ye’ll make folk think I’m a poor partner.”
“Maybe you are.”
He smiled—faintly, ruefully. “Aye. Maybe I am.”
Their next turn brought them face to face again. The drum quickened, the fiddles rising to a fevered pitch. Around them, dancers laughed and shouted, spinning faster, clothes swirling. Jamie’s hand found hers again, strong and sure, pulling her into step with him.
The world blurred into color and motion. She could smell the smoke from the bonfire, the salt from the sea, the faint scent of whisky on his breath when he leaned close to guide her through a turn.
For a moment—just one—she let herself forget. Forget that he was promised to another. Forget that she was never meant to stay here. Forget everything except the pulse of the dance, the pull of his hand, the way his gaze found hers every time they turned.
“Ye have been avoiding me,” he said softly.
There was no point denying it. “Are you surprised?”
He winced. “No. I didnae mean for things to turn out this way.”
Was he talking about their kiss? Or his upcoming engagement?
“I had hoped…I want…” His voice faltered. He shook his head, his eyes full of anguish. “I’m sorry, Elise. Hurting ye is the last thing I would ever want to do. I just wish…”
“You wish what?” Despite herself, Elise found herself leaning into him, bringing her face so close to his she could feel his breath on her cheek.
“Ye know what I wish,” he said so softly she could barely hear him. “And ye know I canna have it.” His gaze met hers, hot and intense. “No matter how much I want it.”
The music swelled to its peak, then stopped suddenly. Laughter and applause filled the courtyard.
They came to a stop but Jamie still held her hand, their fingers tangled together as if not quite ready to let go.
“Thank ye for the dance,” he said softly. “I didnae deserve it. But thank ye all the same.”
He released her hand and took a step back, bowing slightly. The firelight threw his shadow long across the courtyard, stretching towards her like something she couldn’t quite reach.
“Goodnight, Lady MacFinnan.”
Then he was gone, slipped into the crowd like a shadow, leaving Elise staring after.