Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

As they spoke, the topic that hovered between them was not the wedding but the whiskey. Bram Ainslie sipped delicately at his cups, his eyes seeming to gloss over as if he had been lost deep within the barrel. Once again, the older man shook his head. "This is truly something."

Graham shot Caelan a look, his brows raised as his eyes rolled, his mouth tightening as he tried to suppress a smirk. Graham, it seemed, could handle his drink much better than his father, despite keeping pace.

The air was cool, the wind gentle, and clouds rolled overhead. Caelan could smell the rain in the air and feel the static of a nearing storm on his skin. The idea of being wed during the thunder, sheets of rain, and stretched lightning might not have been ideal, but he had no intention of changing his mind. If he could've wed Leona in that instant, he would've.

"Ye had best take care of her," Graham's words caught him by surprise. The tone he used did not suggest he had any doubts, but there was something embedded in the young man's face.

Caelan nodded slowly. "Aye, that I will."

"I daenae wish for her to return home," Graham's wicked grin spread like wildfire across his face, and he couldn't seem to help himself from an eruption of laughter. "She is yer own problem now, man. May god have–"

"Graham," Bram's voice pierced through the air.

Caelan and Graham both turned to look at him, frowning. Oh, no.

Both seemed to expect an outburst that Bram Ainslie had been known for, holding their breaths and sending side-long glances at each other.

Bram stood, a shadow crossing his face. "I cannae believe…"

Here it comes.

"That ye are tryin' scare the poor lad! She's his problem now, ha!"

With that, Bram burst into a fit of laughter, the sound louder with each breath. Caelan watched as he leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees to settle himself in an attempt to regain some composure. Leona's father slowly settled, wiping at his eye, before setting his sights on Caelan.

"Best of luck to ye, son," Bram said, a look of pride on his red face.

Son? Caelan could not remember when anyone had called him such before. His stomach twisted, feeling heavy and yet floating at the same time. Slowly, he nodded with a polite, uncomfortable smile. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the words; it was just that he did not know how to take them.

When they left him, he couldn't help but wonder what was forming. Caelan had never put any thought into marriage, especially not to the connections that would develop from his bride's family. He liked Bram Ainslie; he could see he was a good man underneath his hardened and fiery surface. Caelan could see himself growing closer to Graham as well.

The sun was high by then, a signal that it was midday.

Some time passed as he sat there, nursing his own cup of whiskey and savoring the burning sensation in his belly. He twirled the amber liquid, watching absentmindedly as his thoughts floated away to wherever she was.

Caelan had sent all of Gleann Cloiche into a panic when they had returned shortly after dawn. He was very blunt when they gathered to break their fast with the rest, stating that by the time the sun had set, they would be one in mind, body, and soul. No one protested. No one dared.

The sound of his tent opening drew his attention, but he did not immediately look back. Jamie was meant to come to him by now so he could help him dress in clothing that was more traditional to the occasion.

Turning slowly, his eyes fell on the woman who had entered.

The tension in the air was palpable as their gazes met. Caelan's expression tightened, his guard rising as his eyes narrowed. He had been kind to her, kinder than most men would be to a maid in her position, but that had been in vain. He hoped that his face, the look in his eye, and the silent warning would be enough. But if Flora sensed it all, she did not care.

"I am leavin' for good, me laird, " her voice held a hint of resignation, her gaze holding his as she stepped forward. She wore a cloak around her shoulders, flowing down to the ground around her. There was a time when he had found her bonnie, but that had since passed. Now, Caelan could not help but feel a drenching of disgust.

Caelan frowned deeper. "Then leave. Ye daenae need to announce it."

"Ye need to tell her the truth, Caelan," her words were smooth.

The gravity of her words hung in the air, lingering between them. He knew, deep down, what she meant in a sense. Caelan's jaw clenched, and his eyes motioned to the door. "I have been honest with Leona," his voice was firm, unwavering. "She kens where me heart lies, for she is the place."

She swallowed hard; those words had left a mark. "Does she?"

Flora stepped forward, her brown eyes narrowing. "She is a tender, sweet lass. I might nae have known it before, but I do know, Caelan. And I have seen the way she stares at ye. When she learns the truth, it will break her."

"Enough," Caelan snapped at her.

"Ye ken as well as I that yer father would have hated her; he would've done all in his power to stop ye from takin' Bram Ainslie's daughter as yer wife. It made ye happy to ken it," she challenged, her words low and heated.

Caelan shook his head. "Nay, that is nae the just of it."

"Yer father would have rather seen ye dead than wed to her."

She wasn't wrong ,but that didn't matter. "I daenae care to worry about what a dead man thinks of me bride. I care for the lass. She is–"

"Going to be heartbroken when she learns ye daenae plan to give her wee bairns," Flora's words were sharp, loud, and rang like a bell. She stayed, rooted to the spot, poison swirling behind her brown eyes. "When we would lay together when ye would take me as ye pleased, ye would nay dare to leave me with child."

Caelan frowned.

"Until that night, I dinnae ken why. When ye came to me, takin' me beneath the stars after being in yer cups. Ye told me then how ye wouldnae continue yer father's line. How his name would end with ye. Did ye nae?"

"Aye," he nodded. "I did tell ye that."

Every word felt like an arrow piercing through her heart.

Leona had not wanted to believe Flora, and truthfully, a part of her was still uncertain. But there was no denying Caelan's words, his lack of protest, and the sureness that he would not wish to give her children. She stood there, listening from just outside of his tent.

The wind blew as thunder rumbled in the distance. She watched, almost absently, as the breeze waved against the fabric of the tent, causing ripples to stir. Shaking her head, she took a step back and turned on her heel.

Her mind raced as she walked, her feet guiding her without direction or purpose. Leona's entire body felt heavy, almost sinking into the ground. When Flora had come to her some short time ago, she had only agreed to hear her to rid herself of the maid sooner. But she had been wrong.

Clenching her fists, tears threatening to fall from her eyes, she looked up when she heard the low huff of a horse. Her own mare stood there, tied loosely to a fence post. Glancing around her, she made the decision then and there. Reaching out, Leona undid the reins and used the low-barring fence posts as support. She raised herself into the saddle before urging the beast forward.

The only sounds she could hear were the thudding of hooves on the ground and the cracking of her own heart. Leona pressed her calves into the sides of the mare, pleading for the horse to take her far from here with as much haste as she could muster. The mare seemed happy to oblige.

Her hair flew around her, twisting and tangling in the wind, and her tears seemed to dry as they fell onto her cheeks. Leona stared forward, letting her mind go blank as she was met with the approaching dark clouds.

It was only when her mare's movements began to slow, her sides heaving and her head tossing, that Leona allowed herself to ease on the reins and come to a halt. She leaned forward, patting the soft brown fur tenderly. "Forgive me, sweet lass," Leona said to the beast. "I wasnae thinking straight."

Her horse, loyal and trusting, had always been uncomfortable with the suddenness of thunder and the flashes of light. Slowly and gently, Leona slipped from the saddle and guided her towards a small thicket. The trees were short and stout, not offering much for cover, but it seemed to comfort the mare just enough to settle her down.

Leona's chest heaved as well. The storm within her seemed to mirror the dark clouds that now were overhead. She watched, one hand still holding the reins. The beast's nostrils flared, steam rising from the now damp coat as she gently stroked at her neck.

As the rain began to fall and the thunder growled around her, she could swear she heard someone calling her name. Leona's head snapped up, turning towards the continuing sound. Through the sheets of rain, she caught the hint of a figure approaching.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart torn with a mixture of hope and flight. It had to be him; there was no one else who would have come for her. Did he somehow discover that she had left and raced to catch up with her? She stepped forward, rain dripping from her hair into her eyes.

"Caelan," she whispered his name, her voice trembling.

As the figure drew closer, the details became clearer– Ewan.