He nodded and took the tartan from me. “Ye won’t feel out of place if yer wearing MacDougall colors, now will ye?”
“No,” I breathed.
Callum smiled down at me and draped the tartan around my shoulders. “Good. I want everyone who sees to ken that yer with me tonight.”
A warmth blossomed in my chest, and I reached up to cup his cheek. “You are amazing,” I whispered.
He kissed my cheek, fingers moving the tartan into position before he held up a brooch made of wrought iron with what looked like a rough-cut ruby at its center. “I know it’s tough tae be away from home,” he said while fastening the pin to the tartan so that it held the material in place at my shoulder, “but Agnes and I are happy to be yer people now. Ye have a home here. With us.”
I blinked against the tears that pricked at my eyes as my hand went to touch the brooch. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“And—and I want ye here,” Callum continued, making me look up at him.
There was something he was about to say, something very big. I could feel it in my bones.
“I am here,” I said, dabbing at my tears with the heels of my palms, careful of my eyeliner.
“To stay,” Callum clarified. He ran his hands over my shoulders before he raised them up to cup my cheeks. “I want ye here to stay with us. Dinna go after the New Year.”
My heart felt like it was overflowing. “You want me to stay?”
He nodded, ginger hair falling over his eyes. “Stay with me.”
“Yes,” I laughed despite the tears, “I’ll stay. I had already decided to stay when I spoke to Agnes this afternoon. I’m staying put for the next six months, maybe more.”
Callum nodded, a mixture of emotions flitting across his face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, not understanding the warring expressions. I had thought he would be happy at my news, especially after asking me to stay, but the now almost horrified look on his face had me confused.
He swallowed hard and gestured at my tears. “Lass, if you keep crying I dinna ken what to do.”
Another laugh burst out of me. “These are happy tears.”
He swallowed hard and gestured at my teary eyes. “And I’d rather fight Agnes’s fey than see one more fall. Tell me what to do.”
“Nothing, you big baby,” I muttered, blinking back the last of them. “Let’s be on our way.”
Callum scoffed. “Yer the one cryin’.”
“Happy tears,” I reminded him. My hands smoothed over the thick wool of the tartan. “These are happy tears.”
Callum made a sound that said he wasn’t convinced, but he pressed a kiss to my hand all the same and led us out onto the sidewalk where we joined the throng of revelmakers on their way toward the town square, where the Hogmanay celebrations were well underway.
I was struck by the sheer amount of people and excitement of it all. There were so many smiling faces, drinks being served from a long tent running the length of the square, a band playing on a grandstand for the dancers making use of the beautiful dance floor…
A bonfire crackled at the far end of the square, and my eyes widened in awe at the sight of people dancing and twirling balls of fire over their head.
“They’re dancing with fire?” I asked, pulling him toward the dancers, who swung fire from chains with an ease and confidence I would have been hard-pressed to mimic if our places had been reversed.
“Aye, they go all out fer Hogmanay. I prefer the bonfire.”
“Come on,” I said, pulling his hand and nodding toward the dance floor. “Let’s try normal dancing first, hmm?”
Callum faked a great sigh and wiped at his brow. “Thank god. I thought ye were gonna make me juggle fire just now.”
“Would you have?” I asked, slipping my arms around his neck and leaning into his strong embrace as he led me around the dance floor to the lively tune the band played.
He grimaced. “For ye? Yes.”
