Chapter 17 #2
There is the councilmen’s table. It’s round, so that no councilman feels above the others.
The large chair belongs to the Laird. I had an ordinary chair set beside him; I remember that.
Nothing special, just a chair, but I insisted that I would sit beside him, at the table, and nae be shunted off to the side.
In the middle of the table, a detailed map of the Highlands was pinned in place. Reading the names and finer details was impossible in the weak candlelight, but Skye ran her fingers over the parchment anyway, sounding off the names of clans and counties in her mind.
She glanced up to find Evander watching her.
“Ye remember this place?”
She nodded wordlessly.
“Good. This is where we signed the marriage contract. Then we showed it to the councilmen the next day. Andrew Kane was the one who looked it over.”
“I’ve met him, but we’ll have to sit down for a proper meeting sometime.”
“I’m sure he’ll insist on it.” Evander chuckled. “He told me that he would stay away until ye had recovered. For fear that ye would remember all the arguments ye two had had, he said. Yer recovery is the most important thing here.”
Skye gave a wry smile. “That was thoughtful of him.”
“Aye, he’s a kind man. Come, this is the storage room.”
Picking up the candle, he led her through the chamber to where a smaller, narrower door sat deep in the wall. Skye stepped away from the table with reluctance.
Memories came back thick and fast. There she was, arguing with a man over the importance of feeding the poor. “Nay,” she had said. “It isnae too much. These people are starving.”
She remembered Evander lounging at her side, staying silent. That was until one of the councilmen spoke too sharply to her, and he fixed the man with a long, level look.
At once, silence fell, and the man wilted, sinking back into his seat.
“Get carried away, did ye?” echoed Evander’s voice in his head. “Apologize to Lady Skye. She’ll be Lady Bryden soon enough. Daenae pick holes in her motivations. This will be her clan, and she wants the best for it. Now, leave so we can review the marriage contract.”
And they did, Skye thought, swallowing hard. As for me, I saw all the improvements I could make and how I could bring peace between all three clans—MacCrimmon, Bryden, and MacColl. I had a plan. Is that why I married him?
“Skye?”
She blinked upon hearing her name, dragging her gaze away from the table. Evander stood over by the door, one hand on the doorknob, watching her curiously.
“Sorry,” she mumbled and hurried after him.
The storage room was a little less dark, on account of having a large, round window set into the wall. The moon was still mostly obscured behind the clouds, but occasionally some starlight filtered through.
Combined with the candlelight and her adjusted vision, Skye was able to make out a small, cramped room. The walls were lined with shelves, which were crammed with books, loose papers, manuscripts, maps, and more. A desk and chair sat in the corner by the window, similarly piled high with paper.
Evander strode over to a set of drawers and yanked open one to reveal countless scrolls of parchment, each secured with a differently colored ribbon. He grabbed a red one and unrolled it on the cramped table.
“Can ye read that?”
She took the candle—ignoring how her fingers brushed his calloused ones as she did so—and leaned over the scroll.
The first half was a classic marriage contract, the usual type drawn up between a laird and the daughter of a laird. Below, however, were extra paragraphs written in.
“Terms of the Marriage,” she read aloud. “I remember this. Ye had originally put in that we could take lovers, and I was angry at that.”
He tilted his head. “Aye, that’s true. I didnae mean it as an insult. And there was no lover on me mind. I simply didnae want ye to be restricted or lonely.”
“But ye took that term out.”
“Aye,” he responded simply, still looking at her. “I did.”
She turned her attention back to the contract.
“Number One,” she read aloud. “Laird Bryden willnae order Lady Bryden around as if she were one of his servants.” She paused and grinned, nodding approvingly. “Good job, lass. That one was mine, was it nae?”
“Do ye have to ask?”
She gave a wry chuckle and continued. “Number Two: Despite the terms of their marriage, she will show respect to him in public and protect his reputation.” She paused again, glancing at him. “Was I nae being respectful to ye?”
“Have a guess.”
“I was being respectful?”
“Have another guess. Alternatively, read the final term.”
She glanced back at the document. A lump formed in her throat. “Number Three: The castle is open to any little animal that might need help. Lady Bryden will take care of these creatures.”
For a moment, she stared down at the document, a smile tugging at her lips. She remembered Blackberry, a tiny, flea-bitten kitten meowing for help. She remembered gathering it into her arms and turning to look up at Evander.
“Can I bring her home?”
He’d looked back at her pensively, his eyes as unreadable as always. “Ye can bring back the whole forest if it pleases ye, lass.”
“Now, that last term,” Evander spoke up, his tone wry, “that must have been written by that hell-cat herself. I swear, me servants cross themselves whenever somebody says the name Blackberry.”
Skye let out a gurgle of laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth. “She is a wee hell-cat, is she nae?”
Evander chuckled too, shaking his head. They both glanced down at the contract.
“Well, there it is,” he said. “The contract we drew up. As ye can see, we broke it. I’m sorry, lass. I should have been stronger. I should have respected yer wishes.”
“Me wishes?” she repeated, frowning. “I was there, remember? Just now, when we broke this contract. I am still the same person who signed this contract, and now I think… Well, now I think that we need a new one.”
He glanced sharply at her. “What?”
She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. “Ye heard me.”
“Ye daenae have all of yer memories back, lass. For all ye ken, there could have been a very good reason for ye to add these conditions.”
“So ye daenae think I can make decisions for meself?”
He paused. “I didnae say that.”
“Then listen to me now. If we are to remain married, we need a new contract. What the terms will be, I daenae ken. But this…” She tapped the scroll and shook her head. “It suited the people we were twelve months ago. Let’s start something new, eh?”
He stared at her, not immediately replying. She waited, letting him gather his thoughts. As she waited in the silence, a new memory unspooled.
She saw Blackberry curled up on a rug before the fire. A moment later, the cat streaked out of the room, hissing wildly, its hackles up. She was fleeing an unknown figure, while Skye slumped in her chair, unable to do a thing.
Her heart began to pound.
What am I remembering?
“Very well,” Evander said, cutting into her thoughts. The memory vanished.
But it will come back, Skye promised herself.
She smiled up at him, forcing herself back to the present. “Ye agree?”
“Aye.” He nodded, grinning.
Abruptly, he snatched up the scroll and held it over the candle flame. The fire took hold of the edge, quickly eating up the brittle, dry paper. Flames shot up the paper, and he stepped over to the hearth, dropping the scroll.
They stood side by side, watching the fire reduce the paper to ashes.
“We’ll write a new one in the morning,” she promised. “A fresh one that suits our outlook.”
Will this be a proper marriage? Or will we simply omit the no-touching rule?
“There,” Evander said, nodding toward the hearth. “It’s done. Gone.”
Sure enough, the scroll was nothing more than a neat pile of ashes, with a half-burned end of ribbon lying nearby.
A smile crept onto Skye’s face, and she reached out tentatively to touch his arm. When her fingers brushed against his elbow, she flinched.
The dam cracked, letting water flood through. The memory came, all of it. She gasped loudly, pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth.
Nay, nay, nay. It cannae be. It cannae be.
“Skye?” Evander demanded, his voice thin with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“I remember,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “I remember who took me.”