Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Caelan, Jamie, Graham, and Ewan all stepped onto the makeshift stage. The crowd around her erupted with cheers, men and women all howling in excitement for the Sword Dance.

A man, tall with a beard that framed his face almost in a perfect square, raised his hands in the air. "Now, we have gathered to celebrate! But what is a challenge without a reward?" His voice boomed louder than any man's she had heard before. "The winner of the Sword Dance will win a dance with the future Lady MacNicols!"

On the floor in front of them were two swords, one over the other to form a cross. As the music began to blare from the pipes, each man bowed deeply to the crowd. Then, all at once, they moved in unison. Each man danced around the blades, their feet never stopping. Each time they would raise their arms, voices called out.

Leona's gaze was fixed on only one of the performers. A swell of pride and admiration came over her. Whatever Flora was doing here, she didn't care. Caelan had been honest with her; she knew it. Her doubts seemed to become shadows in the sunlight, fading away. Leona was determined not to let anyone, especially a maid, ruin this day.

Caelan's figure stood out among the dancers, his movements fluid and commanding. As he moved with such grace, Leona found herself wholly captivated.

The dance continued with the music, but it was obvious that Caelan had every intention of being the last man standing there. He would dance all night if that meant it won.

Graham was the first to submit, stepping back to catch his breath. Leona looked up at her brother, still impressed by his display. Leaning forward, his hands on her knees, he looked as if he might be sick right there.

After Graham was Jamie, who merely laughed as he stepped back. The scar on his face was bright, glistening in the sun as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

That left Caelan and Ewan. Leona watched, seeing the determination on Caelan's face. Her eyes darted to Ewan, who was a pale shade with a sheen to his skin. Both men looked worse for wear, but neither seemed to have enough sense of when to stop.

The music, the hollers from the crowd, and the dance all continued.

Finally, Ewan stumbled backward. A collective gasp filled the air as his foot caught one of the blades, causing the swords to separate as he flung his arms out to balance himself. Gasping for breath as he steadied himself, Ewan looked at Caelan. Something crossed over his face for the briefest moment before he grinned. Ewan began to clap, and soon everyone else around them did as well. The sound was like thunder cracking.

Finally, the music faded, and Caelan came to a slow stop. Sweat poured from him, and his chest heaved with exertion. His eyes scanned the audience that had formed until they found her. Holding her gaze, the corners of his mouth curled into a breathless smile. Then he bowed to her.

Leona felt her heart flutter.

Maisie's voice brought Leona back to her place, breaking the spell that Caelan's movements had woven around her. "What a charmin' fool," she laughed, clapping as she looked down at Leona. "That was somethin', wasn't it?"

Isobel nodded with a small smile on her face. "It requires quite a lot of stamina and endurance, a true show of strength as well. They all did very well."

"Until Ewan touched the blade," Maisie noted.

Leona frowned, blinking. "What do ye mean?"

"Do ye nae ken it, lass? Touchin' a sword is a bad omen for the next day," Isobel answered. "Ewan had best be careful in the mornin', and no one will wish to be near him either. Bad luck spreads like a plague."

Leona didn't quite believe in such things, but she knew that many would. Ewan would likely be forced to spend the day alone tomorrow and would also not be welcomed to eat with them until the following day. But if he were upset about it, he did not show it. The man walked over to Caelan and patted him on the shoulder, saying something unheard.

Leona watched as Caelan smiled, nodding at Ewan.

Taking a step forward, her mind leading her towards Caelan, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist. Maisie was tugging her along with them, headed towards a space where many lassies were beginning to dance. She didn't bother to argue, knowing it would fall on deaf ears.

As they joined, a circle was being formed. Leona, in between Isobel and Maisie, held onto their hands as they began to dance. Her heart swelled as she swayed with the rest.

Leona couldn't help but remember how the three had met. It had been a day much like this one and a festival for another Clan's wedding. She recalled the vivid image of a younger, somehow more wild Maisie. Her vivacious spirit was captivating and entrancing as she had danced alone. It was as if nothing else existed to her as she had moved. Leona had watched, stunned and amazed.

After the dance, Maisie had turned to her, her eyes gleaming mischievously as if she knew their fates were already entwined. She walked up to Leona and then announced, "We are friends now."

Leona had been taken aback, but the fire in Maisie's eyes had been almost infectious. Their friendship had been sealed in that very instant. It wasn't shortly after that a shy, timid Isobel had also been dragged into the mix. The three of them had discussed their interests, and all were surprised about one shared. Reading.

The circle slowed as the music died down. Leona stepped away from her friends, taking a moment to glance back over to where Caelan had been. The stage where the Sword Dance had taken place, was now empty. Her eyes moved, hoping to see him. Leona took a step forward and stood on her toes.

"Standing like that willnae help ye find him," Graham's voice chimed.

Rolling her eyes, Leona turned to face him. "I wasnae looking for–"

"Oh, Leona, daenae play dumb. 'Tis written on yer face," he smirked, reaching out and poking her on the nose. Leona swatted his hand away, cursing under her breath at him. Graham sighed. "He's gone to have a drink with the lads."

"Why did ye nae join them?"

Graham raised a brow. "And keep all the lassies lonely? I couldnae."

She sighed. "Graham."

"Mother sent me to find ye," he admitted. "And I have."

With that, he winked at her before turning away. She watched, suppressing a laugh as he walked towards a group of women. A smile crossed over her face as she shook her head.

With a determined breath, Leona started towards her parent's tent, all the while wondering what her mother wanted. As the fabric flaps brushed against her fingers, she entered.

Inside, her mother was bent over a trunk, its contents scattered around her as if she were searching for something of great importance. Leona's presence caught her attention, and she turned with a warm smile.

"Me girl," her mother said. "Forgive the mess."

Leona closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her mother. The familiar scent of lavender was soothing, almost bittersweet. She had missed her.

Her mother held her at arm's length, with a gaze filled with pride. She then motioned to the trunk. Leona's eyes followed the gesture, and her breath was caught as she realized what was spilling out– a soft gray fabric. Leona knew what it was immediately.

As a child, she had always admired her mother's wedding gown, and to see it now, it was almost too much. "I saved it for ye," her mother smiled. "Remember when I would scold ye for touching' it when ye were just a wee thing? It was all for this. For the moment ye give yerself to yer husband."

Leona had not realized that she had started for the delicate fabric, but now she was standing before it with tears in her eyes. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against the elegant folds. "It's as beautiful as I remember."

"And it will be only more beautiful on ye, lass."***

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the gathered crowd. Tables were stretched out, adorned with flickering candles and cups filled with ale. From his seat at the head, his gaze swept across the rows and the faces as they chattered and laughed.

Caelan took his cup, stood, and then called out, his voice carrying a tone that brooked no argument. The voices hushed as all eyes fell onto Laird MacNicols. "We stand on the very ground where blades clashed, blood was shed, and honor was tested!"

As he spoke, the crowd seemed to hold its collective breath, hanging on each and every word. He recounted the battle, sacrifices, and legacy etched into the very land beneath their feet. "But tonight," he continued, his voice sharp. "We gather nae just to remember the past but to honor it– to breathe breath into Gleann Cloiche! Ye all have come together nae just as clans but as families, brothers, and companions. Tonight, we will celebrate the future."

He raised his cup in the air but turned his sights on Leona. In that moment, no one else existed to him. No one else mattered. His eyes met hers, and she held him captive, refusing to tear away. "Tonight, I vow to stand by yer side."

Leona raised her own cup to him; something deep within her eyes made him crave her more than ever before. Slowly, he turned his attention back to the others and was met with an endless sea of raised drinks. Caelan brought his own to his lips and did not pull it away until it was dry.

The applause erupted like thunder clashing, a crescendo of cheers and holders that filled the air. Caelan resumed his seat, a humble smile playing on his mouth as he took in the resounding approval.

As the dinner spread before them, the atmosphere came alive once more with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the smells of the venison and duck. Caelan could not help but steal glances her way, his eyes drawn to her like a moth is to a flame. Each time their gazes met, it was as if a storm was brewing within.

The bagpipes offered a cheerful melody, matched with the cadence of drums. The thudding sound seemed to match the thundering of his own beating heart.

Caelan watched as Jamie sauntered over to Leona, his mischievous grin causing her to chuckle. Leona's eyes seemed to shimmer as she agreed, taking his hand and stepping away from the table. Jamie led her amidst the throng of dancers in a small clearing.

His gaze followed them as they swayed to the music, their movements lighthearted and graceful. Caelan found himself smiling, seeing how much she seemed to glow in the moment. As the dance continued, Leona's laughter floated on the breeze as she twirled and spun.

Finally, he could not take it much longer. Caelan found himself standing and moving towards the dancing pair. He reached out, placing a firm hand on Jamie's shoulder, his voice playful and determined. "The lass owes me a dance, Jamie. Stop steppin' on her toes."

Jamie's wink and Leona's amused glance were not lost on Caelan. His man-at-arms stepped backward, bowing to them both. As he straightened, he looked down at Leona with a crooked smile. "He's nay as good a dancer as meself, but ye best humor him, lass."

As he took her hand in his and began to move, a tension simmered beneath the surface– a quiet storm of emotions, unspoken words, and a need to feel her skin under his fingertips.

Caelan found himself unable to look away from her; he did not wish to either. His gaze locked onto hers as if she had ensnared him with some powerful enchantment. Her lips, which might have had witchcraft on them, were begging to be kissed. Her emerald eyes, illuminated by the torches and the glow from the hundreds of candles, drew him in deeper.

No one else existed to him as they moved.

As the music ebbed and flowed, Caelan finally found his voice. "Leona," he murmured, his voice softer than he intended. At the sound of her name, she blinked as if also realizing that she was there in the moment.

She looked up at him, smiling. "Aye?"

"Meet me in the shadows," he whispered, almost begging.

Their dance slowed to a halt as the music ended. A round of applause and howls was followed by the start of another song. He had expected her to want to continue, but instead, she stepped back from him. Leona curtsied, and as she rose, her eyes met his. "Find me in the shadows."