Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The bath and Aedan’s ministrations had made Thora feel much better. By the time they dressed and made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast she felt calmer, though the feelings of guilt that filled her when Aedan spoke of his feelings still twisted her insides.

She couldn’t allow herself to think too much about it, any more than she could afford to dwell on the pleasure she found in his touch, and the warmth she felt when she was in his arms. The attack the previous night had made it clear that their situation was more precarious than she’d expected.

Why had Lachlan Ross attacked them? She wasn’t sure, and not knowing made her feel twice as wary as she’d felt before.

Word had apparently spread fast, because Mac met them just outside the door to the Great Hall. “Me laird! There were rumors that ye’d been attacked.”

Aedan nodded. “Last night. We received a bottle o’ wine laced with valerian. Thora had a feelin’ about it, so we didnae drink much. ‘Twas the only reason we werenae dead tae the world, when the attackers came.”

Mac nodded. “Any idea who sent the wine? Or the men? There wasnae any warning afore hand in the men-at-arms quarters.”

“’Twas because the men were Lachlan’s own, at least, based on the injuries we saw on one o’ them this morning.”

Mac’s expression turned grim. “Then ye’re in danger. He either kens why ye accepted his invitation, or he’s suspicious enough tae resort tae extreme measures tae find out. Either way, ‘tisnae safe fer us tae remain here. We’d be better off leavin’ as soon as possible.”

Thora had to agree. She was still concerned about what Lachlan might be planning, but it wasn’t worth endangering Aedan’s life. His death, or severe injuries, would be a disaster for his clan, and hers.

Aedan nodded. “Taenight will be the burning o’ the Yule Log, and the Yuletide Feast tae mark the beginning o’ Twelfth Night festivities. We can remain for that, then find a reason tae leave. Any sooner would be suspicious, especially since we’ve already been tae tell Laird Lachlan o’ what happened.”

“As ye will. But remain cautious, me laird.” Mac nodded, then stepped aside for the two of them to enter the Great Hall for the morning meal.

The meal, as well as the morning that followed, were surreal for Thora. Lachlan was absent, supposedly taking care of searching for their assailants, in the meantime, she found herself surrounded by lairds who were still expressing their gratitude for her actions of two days before, and women who ran a gamut of emotions.

Some of the ladies expressed gratitude for her actions. Others seemed uncertain as to whether or not defending the lairds if they were ‘fool enough tae put themselves in danger’ was worthwhile. And still others questioned why a woman had gone out with the men in the first place, for what was traditionally a man’s activity.

There was also the matter of her rescue of the child, though the women were far less divided about the merits of doing so. Instead, they were determined to question why a woman with a new husband - a handsome, strong, honorable and virile husband - had been wandering around outside. Their questions were all perfectly polite, and not unexpected, but there was an undercurrent of suspicion.

Of course. She was supposedly a village lass who’d happened to marry a laird. Of course they’d be suspicious of her wandering unescorted through the castle and traveling alone with the men. She did her best to dissuade them, but it was difficult to lay their fears to rest when she couldn’t divulge the truth about her Gift.

It was a relief to remove herself from the group as they dispersed after the noon meal to prepare for the evening festivities. Despite her concerns, Thora found herself looking forward to it. The Yule tide season had always held special meaning for her, as a representation of dark giving way to light.

Rhiannon had packed a deep forest green dress with red embroidery and a shimmering white bodice. It was somewhat simple, but beautiful and elegant all the same.

Aedan was likewise attired in a formal kilt, white stockings, a white shirt with green lacing, and a sash, along with his rank torc. Once again, his sword was at his side, as was custom, but it had been bound to the sheath with green cords to signify peace. Thora could only hope they wouldn’t need to be broken.

They took their seats at the High Table, close to Laird Ross as usual. To her surprise, Lachlan’s eyes settled on her, and a faint look of surprise crossed his features. “Lady Cameron, lovely as usual. But I wonder… ye dinnae wear the Cameron formal tartan? Or a ring, I’ve seen.”

“Och…” She and Aedan hadn’t even thought of the ring. “The wedding was so sudden, I didnae have a ring that was suitable. Me laird is having one made in me size.”

“Aye. Me maither’s is too large.” Aedan agreed. “But ‘twas nae finished afore the wedding, and afore we decided tae come tae yer celebration.”

“I see. Well, it cannae be helped.” Lachlan nodded. “Though I confess… I was surprised the day afore yesterday. The tree came down, and ye didnae reach fer yer husband. He might have been injured.”

Thora felt a tingle of unease coil in her stomach. His questions were too pointed. Too sharp. “I cannae explain… it all happened so fast… I saw the men in danger and I just acted.”

“Aye. It was impressive. I must say I’m fair surprised how often ye seem tae be in place tae prevent a disaster. ‘Tis almost uncanny.”

The unease got sharper. Does he somehow ken about me gift? But if he did, he’d have tae ken me identity, would he nae? How?

“Me wife has a tendency tae either excellent luck, or terrible luck. Sometimes, ‘tis difficult tae tell which,” Aedan spoke up.

“And ye wed her? I would have thought yer clan would consider it too dangerous tae have a laird’s wife who was prone tae danger.”

“Aye, well… as a laird, I dae have the right tae make me own choices.” Aedan shrugged. “And I cannae say it daesnae have benefits.”

“I’m sure it daes.” Lachlan waved an offhand gesture. “I confess, ‘twas only a passing thought that caught me interest. I didnae mean tae discomfort ye.”

“Nay discomfort at all.” Aedan smiled back, apparently at ease. “’Tis only reasonable.”

Any other person might have believed he was unconcerned. Thora, however, could see the tension in his shoulders, and the wariness in his eyes. He was as on alert as she was, and as unnerved about the tone of Laird Ross’s questions.

The servants began to dim the torches in preparation for lighting the Yule Log. The guests arrayed themselves around the log on which twelve large candles had been placed.

In ceremonial splendor, Laird Ross took a taper from the High Table and approached the Log, where he lit all the candles one by one. The taper was set aside, and he turned to face the assembled clan-folk and guests as everyone lifted their goblets of Yuletide wassail. “May all present here witness with me the coming o’ a bountiful Yule and pray fer blessings and a prosperous year. As darkness turns tae light, and the dead o’ winter tae the life o’ spring, may our fortune grow with the coming o’ new life and warmth throughout the land!”

Thora raised her goblet in toast and drank deep alongside everyone else. She suspected that Laird Ross prayed more for his own fortune and prosperity than for anyone else’s, but she could still support the toast wholeheartedly.

Afterward, the remainder of the wine was poured over the hearth, and three young pages approached the Yule Log. Each, with painstaking ceremony, lit a candle from the Log, then turned and marched to the fireplaces. Each fireplace was lit, and maids came forward with evergreen sprigs for each guest to give to the fire - the ceremonial burning of troubles and request for blessings.

Thora shiver as she knew the branches were part of the very same tree that had felled her. From the hiss of breath between his teeth, Aedan was presumably thinking the same thing. Still, she forced herself to pick up a sprig and approach the blazing fire.

She to burned the danger Laird Ross posed to her clan and the rest of the Highlands. As for her prayer, that was easy.

I pray fer safety fer all o’ us, and a future that includes Aedan - an Aedan who doesnae hate me fer the secret I’ve kept.

Aedan approached the fire with his evergreen sprig, his heart hammering. He knew what he wished to banish, and what he would pray for, but it was hard to focus his thoughts.

He would pray to banish the difficulties that had led to his clan being near destitute and for it to flourish and escape their impoverished state.

And yet, it was another prayer that filled his mind - a prayer for a future that included the enigmatic woman he was becoming increasingly fascinated and entranced by. The woman he suspected he might be falling in love with.

Thora MacTavish. She’d come into his life like a winter storm and forced him into a difficult position, but he found himself wishing the pretense could be made real. That, at the end of their ruse, when they’d either given up or discovered the truth about Lachlan Ross, he could ask her to be his wife in truth.

It didn’t matter where she really came from. She was intelligent, strong-willed, beautiful, and she cared for people with an empathy he admired. He wanted to keep her by his side.

He burned his sprig, then offered her his arm to escort her back to the table as the servants began to bring out the feast. Birds of every description, fish, a whole roast pig and huge slabs of beef - there was a little bit of everything. Jugs of mead and beer were interspersed with bottles of wine and more potent liquors.

In addition, there were baskets of bread, potatoes, and steamed vegetables, as well as tureens of several different types of soup. It was an impressive feast, and Aedan wished he could enjoy it in the same carefree manner as the rest of the guests.

He took a tankard of mead, and a full plate. Beside him, Thora had placed a piece of fish, some pheasant, a bowl of soup and a modest serving of vegetables on her plate, along with fresh bread and a cup of wine.

There was little conversation during the meal. Most of the guests were enjoying the food too much to talk. In addition, a pair of musicians were playing music, filling the hall with soft notes that wound through the din in gentle counterpoint to the clink of utensils and the low thump of cups, jugs and platters.

He couldn’t fully relax, but Aedan did enjoy the feast. Afterward, he and Thora made a leisurely circuit around the room, watching those that braved the dance floor for the traditional Yuletide dances. He and Thora had pled soreness from their injuries, and Aedan took the opportunity to make his way to Mac’s side. “Are we ready tae leave?”

“We could be within a candle-mark. The problem is the excuse.” Mac sighed. “Ye cannae just leave in the middle o’ the feast. Might be best tae wait until the morning. Taemorrow…”

The morning following Yule would be the start of several indoor and outdoor competitions, feasts, and games, including a tournament outside. The chaos would provide an excellent time to slip away.

With that established, Aedan and Thora rejoined those enjoying the feast at the high table until they gradually dispersed in the early morning. He and Thora retired to their rooms, but it was difficult to fall asleep.

A soft knock caught his ear, and he padded across to find Mac outside. “Took me time tae get away, me laird, but after last night, I dinnae think anyone will be surprised if ye choose tae have a guard over yer sleep taenight. If I dinnae disturb,” he added, noticing Thora in the bed.

Aedan nodded and Mac took a chair by the fire.

The following morning, however, he woke to white blanketing the window, and a thin whistle he recognized. Aedan cursed.

A bleedin’ snowstorm. ‘Twill be difficult, if nae impossible tae tak’ our leave in such conditions. We’ll have tae wait until the storm subsides, which could be within candle-marks, or days.

“Och, that’s nae good.” Thora and Mac joined him at the window. “There’s nay way any o’ us would last half a candle-mark in such weather.”

“Aye. We’ll have tae wait.” Aedan grimaced. “We might as well go down tae the morning meal.”

Mac left first, while Aedan and Thora dressed in more casual, comfortable clothing. By the time they made it down to the Great Hall, most of the other lairds and ladies were already present, in various states of wakefulness. Or, in Conall and Kendrick’s case, recovering from hangovers.

Lachlan Ross arrived as one of the last, just as Aedan and Thora were collecting their breakfasts. The laird of the Ross clan approached the High table, and one of his advisors clanged a tankard on a platter. “Good morning, and a blessed first day o’ Yule tae all o’ ye, me guests.”

Lachlan smiled with a touch of chagrin that Aedan found entirely false, and indicated the windows of the Hall. “As ye may have seen, ‘tis a bitter storm outside. As such, ‘twill nae be possible tae have the tournament outside as ‘twas originally planned.” There was a mutter of protest. Lachlan raised his hands for quiet, and the muttering subsided. “Now, I ken there are some things that cannae be done indoors, but there will be events inside. We’ll have hall races, archery in one of the hallway, games o’ different sorts, and a few demonstrations o’ swordsmanship in this very hall.”

This time, the roar of sound that echoed off the walls was far more approving. Lachlan waved for the meal to continue, and noise filled the hall as people discussed who would be participating in what events. focused his attention on Lachlan Ross.

The man was planning various events with his advisors. It seemed innocuous enough, but Aedan couldn’t help feeling a twisting sense of concern in his gut. He couldn’t explain why, but he was certain there was something more at work, some plan he wasn’t yet aware of.

The meal ended, and a board with the events of the day was moved to the front of the hall, marked with charcoal. Aedan studied the it, and his feelings condensed into a sense of dread.

There, two candle-marks after the noon meal, was a swordsmanship demonstration listed:

Laird Lachlan Ross versus Laird Aedan Cameron.