Chapter 14

It was a wet day, rain falling over the castle since the previous night, and Domnhall’s boots sank into the mud as he waited by the gates. Next to him, Billie shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously, seemingly unable to stay still.

“What’s the matter, lass?” Domnhall asked.

It took Billie a few moments to respond to him. “Naething,” she said. “It’s simply been a while since I last saw me family.”

Domnhall could understand very well how hard it was for someone to be apart from their family. Now with his mother gone, he had no one left save for Hugo, who was like a brother to him. He supposed the Robertsons would be his family now, too, but he knew nothing about them other than their clan’s history. In all the time they had spent fighting, Billie hadn’t had the chance to tell him a single thing about her father or her two sisters he hadn’t yet met.

If he were honest, he would have to admit that he, too, was nervous. Ever since he had received word that the carriage bringing Billie’s family to the castle had been spotted, he couldn’t stop fidgeting with the hilt of his sword, his fingers drumming against it, adjusting the holster, and tracing the carved design etched onto the metal. It was difficult to wait; he would much rather get it over with.

There was no doubt in Domnhall’s mind that Abigail had noticed her sister’s nervousness, but she said nothing. She only had a hand on Billie’s shoulder, steadying her even as Billie fidgeted and moved around. Perhaps that was what she needed, he thought. Not conversation, but a calming presence.

When the gates opened and the carriage rolled inside, though, Domnhall changed his mind. It would have been much better, easier, he thought, to stay in that limbo before the Robertsons’ appearance, uncertain but at least not yet confronted. There were no doubts in his mind that Billie’s family had already formed an opinion about him, and he didn’t think it was a favorable one. How could it be? His father had made sure to tarnish their name, to drag Domnhall along through the mud with him.

The carriage came to a stop and out came an older man, a younger man, and a young woman. Domnhall didn’t need to be told who they were; the resemblance between the woman and Billie was obvious, the two of them sharing delicate features, even if Billie’s hair was fairer and her eyes grey rather than her sister’s deep blue. He assumed they were related to the older man, too, though Domnhall had to look more closely to make the connection. But who else could it be other than their father, Jamie Robertson?

The last one, if Domnhall’s information was correct, was Cormac McLaren, a tower of a man with a stony expression and a piercing gaze. One look at him was enough for Domnhall to know it wouldn’t be easy to get into his good graces, but he could hardly blame the man. After all, Domnhall’s father had made his life a living hell for years.

Billie greeted her family by falling into her sister’s and father’s arms, hugging them both tightly. Abigail was close behind, pulling Keira into a hug so tight that Domnhall wondered where all that strength was kept in such a small woman, before moving on to her father.

When Billie got to Cormac, she grasped his shoulders and smiled, and Domnhall was surprised to see the smile reflected on the man’s face.

It looked almost odd on him, like a smile wasn’t meant to ever appear on his lips.

It didn’t last long. The moment Cormac’s gaze found Domnhall, the smile was gone. Domnhall swallowed drily, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards in an awkward, momentary smile.

Cormac was not impressed.

“Faither, this is Domnhall MacAuley,” Billie said as she came to stand next to Domnhall once more. “Domnhall, this is me faither, Laird Robertson, me sister, Keira, an’ her husband, Cormac McLaren.”

“Welcome,” Domnhall said, trying to put on the most cheerful smile he could manage. It was far from an easy task, though, when one of them glared at him and the other two regarded him with such suspicion that he might as well have been a criminal.

Before he could say anything else, Billie asked, “Where is Evangeline? An’ Iain, Ellair?”

“Evangeline insisted tae come, but she was ordered tae rest at home,” Laird Robertson said. “She is too far along in her pregnancy tae travel so far, but she wanted me tae tell ye she will visit the moment she can. Iain stayed with her. He doesnae like tae leave her side these days.”

“An’ me braither Ellair has been on a mission fer a few weeks,” Cormac added. “He sends his apologies an’ his wishes fer a long, happy marriage.”

As he spoke, Cormac’s gaze drifted back to Domnhall, full of contempt, silently letting him know his words were nothing but empty pleasantries. He knew that the brothers had been responsible for killing his father and his father’s right hand after the laird had imprisoned them and then blackmailed Cormac for years. How could he blame Cormac for his hostility?

Well, as long as he doesnae outright attack me.

“Come,” Domnhall said, shepherding everyone inside the castle. “Ye must all be tired. I will have the maids prepare some tea an’ ye can rest in the drawin’ room or yer chambers, if ye prefer.”

When they reached the drawing room, everyone poured inside, since it was still early in the morning. Domnhall took a seat in one of the plush chairs, sitting too straight, too stiff. When he exchanged a glance with Billie, she gave him a sympathetic look, but it was hardly enough to reassure him.

An awkward silence stretched among them as the maids brought the tea along with food for everyone. Domnhall’s gaze fell to Keira’s hands, which were entirely covered by gloves she hadn’t yet made an effort to remove. It puzzled him, but he decided it was best to say nothing on the matter, since he hardly knew the woman.

Once the maids were gone, Domnhall cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention and gave them a small, apologetic smile.

“I understand this must be… difficult,” he said, the last word a strained exhale. “I can only apologize fer everythin’ me faither has done an’ promise ye I am naething like him, but I dinnae expect ye tae believe me. I ken ye wish tae see proof, an’ all I can dae is try tae provide it, nae matter how much time it takes. What me faither did… is unforgivable. But now that the clan is in me hands, naething like that will ever happen again.”

Perhaps promises meant little to those people whose lives had almost been ruined by his father. Domnhall thought that if they spent the rest of their lives hating him, it was only fair, even if he was nothing like his father, even if he had fled to France all those years ago to escape him. It was difficult to forget all the grief, to put all the pain behind them, just as it was difficult for Domnhall himself. There were still times when he questioned the members of his council who had served his father, the ones he had kept who had promised him their unwavering loyalty, and he knew those men well. Laird Robertson, Keira, and Cormac didn’t know him at all, they would have to trust that he was telling them the truth.

For a few moments, no one spoke, and Domnhall feared he had somehow managed to make things worse with his promises. But then Laird Robertson spoke in a low, gentle voice, like a man trying to calm a startled animal.

“It is true that yer faither brought much grief tae our families,” he said. “Cormac here had been doin’ his biddin’ fer years, an’ John MacAuley almost had him an’ me daughter killed. But ye seem like a kind lad. I kent yer faither. I hope I’m nae mistaken when I say ye dinnae seem like him.”

Domnhall couldn’t say he was relived, exactly, but at least he could now see none of them would be outright hostile to him. Perhaps if Laird Robertson truly thought he wasn’t like his father, then Domnhall had a chance to prove it to them all. Billie’s father seemed like the kind of man people trusted and listened to, and Domnhall couldn’t think of a better ally in this.

“Ye’re lucky me faither is here an’ nae Evangeline,” Keira said with a small, playful smile. She turned to Cormac, knocking her shoulder into him and laughing, perhaps more for Domnhall’s sake than anyone else’s. Cormac cracked a smile, too, slowly becoming more at ease around him. “She would have questioned ye relentlessly, me laird.”

“Please… call me Domnhall,” Domnhall said. “I’m curious. What would have happened if Evangeline was here?”

“She would have chained ye tae a wall an’ made ye confess tae crimes ye never committed,” Cormac said, his tone entirely flat.

Domnhall didn’t know what to think. Cormac sounded so serious that there was no hint of a joke in his words, but surely, he couldn’t mean it. Rolling her eyes, Keira patted Cormac’s arm before turning to look at Domnhall again.

“Me husband doesnae understand how tae jest,” she said. “I can assure ye me sister is perfectly pleasant, once she is certain ye are a good man.”

Ach, so perhaps she would have chained me tae a wall, after all.

“I can only assume Cormac has gone through such a relentless questionin’?” Domnhall asked. “I suppose it’s only fair that she questions everyone who is involved with her sisters. I cannae say I look forward tae it, but I will try me best tae endure it.”

Cormac gave Domnhall a curious look, while Laird Robertson and Keira had matching smiles. When he glanced at Billie, he liked to think the look she gave him was one of approval, though he could never be certain. It was difficult to read her sometimes, like she was still guarding herself from him—but that, too, was to be expected, he supposed. That tentative truce between them was still new and fragile, and Domnhall doubted Billie trusted him very much.

Hugo chose that very moment to burst into the room, as energetic and magnetic as he always was. He flitted about the place, making quick and easy introductions in a way Domnhall had never managed to do, at least until he got to Cormac.

Just like Domnhall had predicted, it was far from an easy task to charm him.

Hugo was suddenly met with a blank wall, Cormac’s expression just as stony as if he had been insulted. Faltering for a moment, Hugo cleared his throat and said, “Well, you certainly have the look of a soldier.”

“Hugo,” Domnhall said, just to spare them all another interaction between his friend and Cormac. Humming, Hugo turned swiftly to Domnhall, relief washing over him at having a reason to step away from the other man. “I trust all preparations have been carried out fer the weddin’ on the morrow?”

“Yes, of course,” Hugo said, regaining his usual smile, which had faded while he spoke to Cormac. “Everything has been prepared. I planned the feast myself.”

“Nae, ye didnae,” Domnhall said, just loud enough for Hugo to hear.

“I told Mrs. Campbell to plan the feast myself,” Hugo corrected just as quietly, giving Domnhall one of his insufferable grins. Mrs. Campbell, the head housekeeper, would have taken the reins herself anyway, Domnhall thought.

Their small group stayed there for a while longer, the Robertsons chatting amongst themselves, until they retired to their chambers to change and rest. Only Billie was left behind, and Domnhall saw her talking to Cameron just outside the drawing room door, despite all his best efforts to keep the two of them apart.

Next to him, Hugo snorted in a manner that was too inelegant for him. “You’re being ridiculous, mon ami.”

Rolling his eyes, Domnhall didn’t even grace that with a response. He didn’t think he was being ridiculous at all. If anything, he was being too lenient, both with Cameron and with Billie. He and Billie had even just had a discussion where they had promised to be faithful to each other. And yet there she was, talking once again to the man with whom Domnhall had caught her flirting.

What was he supposed to do? A part of him wanted to start another fight, but with Billie’s family there, it seemed like it was unwise to be anything but kind and the perfect husband for Laird Robertson’s daughter.

However, if he couldn’t stop this through Billie, then he had to stop it through Cameron.

Pushing himself off the chair, Domnhall approached them, his smile more like a baring of teeth. “Cameron,” he said, grabbing the man’s arm. “Walk with me. I have somethin’ I need tae discuss.”

Cameron froze, his eyes widening. “With me, me laird?”

Billie didn’t seem nearly as shocked. Domnhall had no doubts she knew precisely what he was doing, but then perhaps it meant she would have the decency to finally stop being so close with Cameron.

“Aye, with ye,” Domnhall said. “Come.”

He didn’t spare Billie another look as he dragged Cameron away, chatting to him about the tasks that still needed to be done around the castle. Maybe he should pair him off with Ailis, he thought, give him something to keep him busy and away from Billie.

As he headed down the corridor, Cameron in tow, he could hear Hugo’s laughter echoing down the halls.