Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The great hall of Castle Fraser glowed with the golden light of dozens of torches.
Their flames danced against the stone walls and gleamed upon polished shields, crossed swords, and faded clan banners that hung from the rafters.
The scent of roasting venison, bannocks, peat smoke, and spiced ale filled the air.
It had been a few nights since the awkward moment in the study, and Eleanor had not seen much of Callum. She had been avoiding him at all costs, but she knew that it could not continue with trays in her chambers for much longer.
She rounded a corner to the great hall, bracing herself for the encounter. The hall seemed impossibly large as she passed through the large wooden doors and stared out over the sea of unfamiliar faces.
Long tables stretched the length of the hall, already crowded with clan members dressed in their tartans and clan colors. Men laughed loudly, their deep voices echoing against the stone. Women exchanged greetings while servants hurried between benches carrying platters piled high with food.
The scene would have been welcoming to her if she had known at least one person, yet she felt more alone than she ever had in her life.
Where are ye, Andrew?
She held her breath as she searched the crowd, not for a glimpse of him, but for any possible hint that someone had recognized her and knew where he was.
Few people turned to look at her, yet she could not help but notice one man in particular who seemed to have taken a great interest in her.
He sat on the table closest to the main table as he stroked his beard. His head was bald, while his beard was long and grey. He had one menacing white eye while the other was intensely brown. His sharp nose was too sharp, giving him the menacing look of an eagle.
“Ye will be sittin’ with me,” Callum suddenly whispered behind her.
Almost jumping, Eleanor raised a hand to her chest as she tore her gaze away from the old man and looked up at Callum.
His face was just as stiff as always as he reached for her arm and tucked it into the crook of his.
“Remember, lass, ye are me betrothed, ye cannae hide in yer chambers for yer entire stay here at the castle,” he spoke under his breath as he guided her toward the main table at the front of the hall. “Ye need to appear as me bride.”
Eleanor stiffened as his hand settled over hers.
The warmth of his arm beneath her fingers was startling after days spent avoiding him. She had almost convinced herself that the awkwardness of their last encounter had been forgotten. One glance at Callum's rigid expression told her otherwise.
“I am aware of the arrangement,” she murmured.
“Good,” his reply was curt enough to make her want to step on his boot.
Together they crossed the hall. Conversations continued around them, but Eleanor could feel curious eyes following their progress. More than once, she heard whispers ripple through the crowd.
“The laird's bride…”
Her glance wandered over to the old man again, whose gaze was still fixed on her.
He watched her closely over the rim of his cup as he took a sip of his ale.
A shiver ran down her spine as she forced herself to look ahead again.
Why does he keep on lookin’ at me like that?
She held her head high and allowed Callum to lead her to her behind the long wooden table before taking a seat at his side.
She was instantly served with a platter of roast meats followed by cheese, wine, ale, and freshly baked bannocks that smelled like heaven.
She had not even realized how hungry she had been until she tucked into the scrumptious offerings.
A single serving of food on a tray was one thing, but she felt ravenous at the sight of all the platters moving through the crowd with ease.
“Ye seem hungry,” Callum drew her attention to the side as he lifted his cup of ale and sipped.
“Aye, it has been a long time since I shared a meal with another person. Ye forget just how important human contact is when you spend yer days locked away in a study… Nae that ye have ever locked me away, I just meant that I have been workin’ hard.
” She reached for her cup of ale and gingerly took a sip.
The look in his eyes was intense. She half expected him to argue with her, but he simply nodded his head. “Aye, ye have been workin’ very hard. Ye should take some time to explore the castle, but mind ye, daenae trust anyone.”
Her eyes instantly wandered over to the old man who had been paying close attention to her.
He seemed immersed in the conversation with a man beside him, and Eleanor took the opportunity to ask Callum who the man was.
“Is that man on yer council?” She nodded subtly toward the table.
Turning slowly, Callum followed the direction of her gaze. “Which man?”
“The one with the blind eye,” she said softly, not wanting to draw any attention to them.
Callum nodded slowly before turning his gaze forward again and taking a bite of his food. “Aye, why do ye ask?”
“I daenae ken, he was just lookin’ at me as if he kens who I am.” She focused her attention back on her plate, but noticed how Callum instantly stiffened.
“That is Hamish McCowan. He served me, father, before me and still sits on the council,” Callum spoke quietly so that only she would hear. “He worked very closely with yer bother, though I daenae ken how he would ken that ye are related.”
Eleanor glanced up again, meeting the man’s gaze this time as her heart began to race.
His expression was blank, yet his one good eye shone with something she could not understand. Did he recognize her? And if so, what did that mean? Was he a friend to Andrew, or had he been someone who could have potentially betrayed him?
The quickening of her pulse intensified as she broke the gaze first. When she looked up again, he was speaking intently to the man beside him.
What was that?
Callum spoke without lookin’ at her. “I saw it as well, I daenae ken why he was lookin’ at ye like that, but for now, stay away from him.
I will handle the matter.” He continued to eat as if nothing had happened at all, but Eleanor struggled to shake the feeling that nothing good could come from anyone who looked at her like that.
For the remainder of the meal, Eleanor attempted to focus on the food before her. It was impossible. Every few moments, she found herself glancing toward Hamish McCowan.
Each time she looked, she discovered him doing something entirely ordinary. Speaking with another clansman. Drinking his ale. Listening to a story being told farther down the table.
Yet she could not shake the feeling that he was aware of her every movement. Was she simply overthinking matters?
Somewhere in the back of the hall, a lad began to play the bagpipes, adding more merriment to the gathering at hand as cheers of approval arose amidst the chatter.
The warmth and merriment should have put her at ease; instead, a knot of unease settled deeper within her stomach.
A servant arrived carrying another jug of ale. As he refilled their cups, Callum leaned slightly closer.
“Try to smile,” he said lightly, almost teasingly.
Eleanor blinked. “What?”
“Smile, lass. Ye daenae want anyone to think that they have rattled ye.” He sipped his cup gingerly and laughed at something that someone had said at a nearby table.”
How does he remain so calm at all times?
She reached for her own cup and took another small sip. “I am smilin’.”
“Nay, ye look as though ye are about to attend a funeral.” His gaze moved over the hall as if he were taking inventory and stock of all who were present.
She turned toward him. “I daenae.”
His eyebrow rose.
She scowled.
His expression remained unchanged. After a moment, he reached for his cup. “That proves me point.”
Despite herself, Eleanor felt the corner of her mouth twitch.
“There.” Callum nodded once. “Much better.”
The exchange was brief, but it eased some of the tension coiling within her. The moment, however, was short-lived as Hamish got to his feet, drawing more than just a little attention to himself as he raised his voice. “Me Laird!”
The music suddenly stopped as heads turned toward the front of the hall.
A tense silence filled the room as Eleanor stiffened. Was this the moment where he declared himself a traitor? Why would he make such a public declaration? Her heart pounded furiously as she turned toward Callum.
The laird sat rigid, locking eyes with the man from across the room. The tension that hung in the air was almost too palpable for Eleanor to handle as she shifted in her seat, looking from one to the other.
A light smile danced around Hamish’s lips as he inclined his head to the laird. “I think, Me Laird, that there has been a grave oversight here this evening.”
Callum stiffened even further beside her as he adjusted his position and placed his hand over his knee under the table. Was he preparing himself for a fight?
Eleanor held her breath as a tense silence fell over the room. Surely the man would not cause a scene in front of the whole clan. Or were his motives more sinister than simply just outing Eleanor in a public manner? Her fingers tightened around her cup.
Around the hall, men shifted on the benches. A few exchanged wary glances. Even those seated closest to Hamish seemed uncertain where this was leading. One man even frowned as she as he looked between the two men.
An eternity seemed to pass until Hamish slowly lifted his cup in the air.
“To the Laird and his bonnie bride to be… may their lives always be as full as our cups, and their reign as long as the journey that brought them together.” His eyes lingered on Eleanor for a little too long, causing her to shift slightly toward Callum.
The words hung in the air like a knife waiting to strike. A few of the nearby men seemed to relax, yet Eleanor was not certain of what the words meant. What did the man know of the journey that had brought them to where they were?
It was not until the man beside Hamish stood that the tension finally broke. “To the Laird and his new bride!” The man’s voice boomed across the hall as he raised his cup beside Hamish.
Cheers erupted from the crowd as one by one, the men stood and joined in the toast.
Eleanor relaxed as the tension eased, her fingers uncurling from around the cup. The moment of relief, however, was short-lived when she turned back to Callum and noticed how intently he was staring at the old man.
What is he thinkin’?
Her breath was heavy when he raised his cup of ale to his lips and took a large sip, his eyes never leaving the man who now stood among a small group of men who were clapping him on the back.
The laughter and merriment returned to normal as bagpipes began to play a merry tune at the back of the hall.
All seemed well again, except for the tension in the laird’s face.
What exactly had Hamish meant with his toast?
Something seemed off, even for Eleanor, who had never met the man in her life.
Beside her, Callum released his cup from his firm grip and sat back on his chair, strumming his fingers on the table.
“Me Laird?” Eleanor asked softly beside him, almost wanting to reach out and touch his hand.
Callum’s jaw unclenched slightly as he glanced to the side. “Aye, I ken what ye are thinkin’ lass, but I cannae answer yer questions. We can talk about the matter later when there are fewer ears to hear,” he kept his voice low as he glanced around the room.
Tension coiled in the pit of her stomach as Hamish sat, seemingly ignoring them now as he returned to his conversations.
“Meet me in the study this evening after everyone has gone to bed. We can discuss the matter then,” Callum whispered beside her without looking at her.
Alone in the study, again?
Her heart began to race for entirely different reasons this time.
She had seen Callumn in the study on her own, but it had never been after everyone else in the castle had gone to bed.
There had always been the possibility of someone coming in, but it seemed far too intimate and even forbidden for them to be left alone under such circumstances.
The circumstances.
There was no other choice but for them to meet in private if they were to discuss what had just happened with the member of the council. Callum was certain that there was a traitor in their midst, and it certainly seemed as if that were the case.