Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

"What happened to ye last night?" Jamie's voice cut through the air like a knife, stabbing into Calean's throbbing skull. His mind ached and body ached, and there was tension behind his eyes that he had never known.

He opened his eyes and turned slowly, groaning. "What?"

Jamie, who was standing at the edge of the bed, frowned. He knelt down, coming face to face with Caelan. The burns on his face seemed more red, a signal that he was angry. "Ye passed out drunk, ye bampot."

I never get drunk.

Caelan sat up, feeling dizzy as his stomach twisted. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing down at himself with a furrowed brow. The only time he could remember ever sleeping fully clothed was when he had been on the road for days at a time.

"Get up, man," his man-at-arms growled. "Ye're missin' the first meal of the day, and yer presence will nay go unnoticed. 'Tis already spread about that ye were too pished to reach yer own bed."

He watched as Jamie stormed from the tent, leaving Caelan to dress and wash himself up. With each movement, his head ached more. When he bent to pull up his socks, he nearly fell forward. Something was wrong, very wrong.

Outside, the sun was bright, and the air was brisk. He normally welcomed the cold, even adored it, but this was not one of those times. Caelan, aware of eyes on him, straightened himself and walked with his shoulders back and head high. Men stepped aside as he made his way back to the dining tables.

The entire scene was full, the tables almost overflowing with guests and friends. But no one else captured his attention like her . Leona, dressed in a delicate shade of yellow, was laughing along with his sister and their friend. She was glowing with flowers decorating her long, loose hair.

Everyone stood as he passed, but there was also something else. Whispers. Voices, too silent to make out but loud enough to know, hushed on and carried throughout the grounds. Caelan did his best to ignore them.

"There he is!" Bram Ainslie called out, standing to greet him. With a firm pat on the shoulder, he embraced Caelan, the way a father would his son. "I heard ye were far too many in yer drinks, lad! Ah, daenae fuss, all men get worried knowin' they commit to one lassie only. I ken it too well!"

Graham snorted. "I would drink m'self dead if I had to marry–"

Leona tossed a biscuit at her brother, laughing with the rest of the table. Despite the smile on her face, the sound of her voice, and the glow of her skin, it soon became apparent to Caelan that Leona would not look at him.

What did I do?

He sat at the head of the table, with Bram at his right side. Caelan stared at her, watching in hopes that she would raise her eyes to meet him. When she did not, he grabbed his cup from the table and raised it.

"To joinin' families and breaking our fasts," Caelan nodded before taking a sip. He closed his eyes and finished his cup, letting the warm amber liquid slide down his throat.

Jamie, who had been seated with the other men, moved over to him before the meal could be started. He leaned down, his voice low and quiet. "We have a situation, m'laird . I daenae think it wise to mention it here."

Caelan nodded and then stood. "I will see ye all shortly. Enjoy."

As he walked away, he felt her eyes on him. Caelan glanced over his shoulder and was met with her concerned gaze. The relief washed over him like a downpour, and he gave her his most convincing look that begged her not to worry. Turning away, though, that look vanished from his face.

When they were no longer near any listening ears, Jamie turned to Caelan with a frown. "Ye have pissed me off, and I cannae stand to look at ye," Jamie admitted, his anger showing plainly. "But I ken ye better than any other would. When I saw ye last night, stumblin' about… I knew there was something wrong."

Jamie looked around them before continuing. "Ye were given somethin' in yer drink, lad. That is the only thing that makes any sense to me, ye ken? Nae once have I seen ye so out of sorts, and never would ye do anythin' to put Leona in danger."

Caelan shook his head. "Who would dare do such a thing?"

With a frown, Jamie sighed. "That I daenae ken. But best be careful until we can figure it out. There will be some who willnae care for the joinin' of ye and Leona, but I dinnae think anyone would do this. Should we stop the rest from eating?"

"Nay," Caelan frowned. "Nay one else seems to be affected."

"What should we do, lad?"

Caelan frowned. "Act like nothin' has changed for now. When we find them, we willnae let them leave Gleann Cloiche alive."

As he walked back to the others, Caelan couldn't help but wonder if he should tell her. At the very least, he needed to apologize for the previous night. Whatever he had done, it was enough to turn her away from him.

The air remained chilled, but the sun, directly on his skin, was hot. There was a faint breeze, causing the fabric of the tents to tremble with each gust. At least the sky was clear, a sure sign that all of the events planned for the day would continue without issue.

"Laird MacNicols!" A man's voice called out.

Caelan turned and saw a pale-looking Mackie. As the other man approached, his steps seemed uneven and uncertain. From what he had seen of the other laird, he walked with pride and determination. An image flashed across Caelan's mind, one of Mackie sharing the same pitcher.

"Forgive me," Mackie said in a huff. "I'm afraid I drank too much. That MacNicols' honeyed ale is too much for the likes of me, I'm afraid."

With a frown, Caelan shook his head. "Nay, lad. Daenae fash yerself. Go while there's still something left to eat, though, I fear Bram Ainslie might clear the table. The man is ravenous."

"Aye, the man can eat," Mackie chuckled. "Will ye be dancin' later?"

Dammit. Caelan had almost forgotten about the Sword Dance and his promise to partake the night before. Jamie, Caelan, Mackie, and Graham were expected to perform for the lot of them. Though he had slept throughout the night, Caelan was still exhausted and sore.

"Oh, aye," he smiled, knowing backing out was out of the question.

Mackie shook his head. "I daenae ken if I'll be able to at this rate."

Caelan looked past him, catching a glimpse of strawberry blonde. Mackie also turned, following the direction of his stare. "I'll leave ye to chase after her," Mackie chuckled. "I will see ye later, Laird MacNicols."

Without a word, Caelan rushed after her.

"Leona!"

At the sound of her name, she turned. Her heart, fluttering like the wings of a bird, leaped to her throat when she saw him. Part of her was tempted to turn, to find somewhere to hide until she could come up with the right words, with an apology for how she had changed things.

Despite having been so heavy with ale the night before, he was still handsome and in much better condition than most of the men she had seen throughout the morning. Leona couldn't say the same about herself.

As she turned to face him, her dress twirled around her hips and legs. The gentle breeze tugged at the fabric, making waves of pale yellow. She took a deep breath, about to apologize and to ask what she could do better, but Caelan spoke first. "Lass, forgive me. I dinnae mean for ye to see me in such a way," he said, his voice soft and pleading. "I will make it up to ye."

She blinked. "What?"

"I only meant that–"

Leona shook her head. "Caelan, ye daenae need to be sorry."

Relief seemed to flood him. "Will ye dance with me later?"

"Are ye a good dancer?"

Caelan chuckled. "I daenae ken. Ye'll be the one to decide that."

She smiled up at him, her concerns from last night fading. Leona motioned in the direction she had been headed, where Maisie and Isobel were likely waiting. They had gone ahead of her to witness some of the games, and she had promised to join them. "Would ye care to come watch the games?"

"Aye, I would," his eyes met hers. "But I have some matters to tend to. I will find ye later, though, lass. And then ye can step on me toes as we spin about."

Rolling her eyes, she turned from him and started for where the games were being held. She was all too aware of his eyes on her and made no effort to hide the sway of her hips.

Amidst the bustling crowd, Leona's eyes scanned the faces for any sign of Maisie and Isobel. The games were alive with energy from those looking on; voices cried out and cheered.

As she moved through the throng, a sensation pricked at the back of her neck, a feeling like eyes on her. But this wasn't the feeling of Caelan's gaze; this was one that made her uncomfortable. She turned slowly, scanning her surroundings for the source of her unease. Leona was half temped to chastise herself for letting her imagination run wild.

And then, there it was– a fleeting glimpse of someone familiar. Leona's breath caught as she saw a pair of large brown eyes, eyes she had seen before. A face that she had hoped she would never see again.

Her stomach twisted, and she frowned. Yer mind is playing tricks on ye.

"There ye are!" Maisie's voice tore her away from her thoughts.

Leona forced a smile, trying to convince herself that she was simply seeing things, but the tight knot of emotions in her chest had a firm grip on her. Isobel and Maisie both eyed her with concern as they approached. Maisie reached out, grabbing her arm. "Leo, what is it?"

Shaking her head, she sighed. "Nothin' important. Shall we go?"

As they settled on where to watch some of the contests and games, Leona couldn't help but continue to steal glances into the crowds. The events before her barely seemed to serve as a distraction to what she saw. As she stood there, clapping mindlessly with everyone else, she became certain.

Flora, who Caelan had told her had been sent away, was here.