“Your faith gives me strength,” Brodie admitted softly.
“Do ye want to try to make an appearance at the ceilidh tonight?” she asked. “Ye aren’t strong enough to stay long, but a short time would be nice, I think. The infirmary sucks all the happiness from ye.”
Brodie considered Moira’s suggestion, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. “Aye, I’ll make an appearance. Everyone needs to see that I’m healing, even if I cannae stay long. I ken the McClain soldiers will be happy to see I can move a bit.”
Moira squeezed his hand, pride swelling in her chest. “I’ll be by your side, mo chridhe. We’ll show them our strength.” Sherested her head on his shoulder for just a moment. It was good to have her husband back.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the courtyard, Moira went for Brodie’s brothers to take him back to the infirmary where he could rest before the ceilidh. Once she found Alisdair and Lachlan, they carried him back to the infirmary, and he slept.
*
The great hallwas alive with the spirit of the Highlands. Fiddlers played lively reels while clansmen and women danced, their feet pounding the stone floor in intricate patterns. The aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the scent of pine and smoke from the hearth.
Moira moved through the crowd, her vibrant hair catching the firelight as she greeted allies and kin alike. Then she scanned the room, noting the placement of each clan and the subtle shifts in power dynamics. She understood that this gathering’s importance extended far beyond mere celebration.
As she passed a group of men who had joined them from the Stewart’s army, their hushed conversations faltered. Moira met their guarded looks with a cool smile, refusing to let their presence unsettle her.
Moira approached the men, her voice carrying over the music. “I trust ye are enjoying the hospitality of the McAfees this eve.”
The men exchanged glances before one spoke up, his tone carefully neutral. “Aye. ’Tis a grand ceilidh.”
Moira held his gaze, her words measured. “And I trust ye will remember this kindness, should the tides turn.”
The implication hung heavy in the air. The man inclined his head, a flicker of understanding passing between them. “Aye, we’ll not forget.”
Satisfied, Moira moved on, her message delivered. As she wove through the throng, she caught sight of Ailis deep in conversation with her husband, Lachlan. Their heads were bent close, expressions serious despite the merriment surrounding them.
She walked straight to them. “Lachlan, would you find Alisdair and bring Brodie for the ceilidh. He wants to at least be part of it, though he cannae stay for long.”
Lachlan nodded solemnly, his piercing blue eyes meeting Moira’s. “Aye, I’ll fetch Brodie. He’s been eager to join the festivities.”
As Lachlan strode off to find his brothers, Moira turned to Ailis, concern etched on her features. “What troubles ye, sister? I saw the intensity of yer conversation.”
Ailis sighed, her green eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. “Lachlan and I were discussing the men who came to us from the Stewarts and Sinclairs. There are whispers that they’re plotting something, but we cannae discern their true intentions.”
Moira’s brow furrowed. “We must remain vigilant. The Sinclairs have always been a slippery bunch, and with Clyde Stewart’s ambitions…” She trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging between them.
Ailis nodded grimly. “Aye, we cannae let our guard down. Not even for a moment.”
Just then, a hush fell over the great hall as Brodie entered, supported by his brothers Alisdair and Lachlan. Despite the pallor of his skin and the slight tremor in his hands, Brodie held his head high, his brown eyes gleaming with determination.
Moira’s heart swelled with pride and love as she watched her husband make his way through the parted crowd. She stepped forward to meet him, taking his arm and guiding him to a seat of honor near the hearth. “Ye’re doing so well!”
The smile on Brodie’s face told her that he was proud of himself for making it there. She knew his brothers had carried him to the entry to the great hall, and then had set him on his feet, but just a few steps felt like everything to her.
Moira surveyed the great hall of McAfee Keep, taking in the tartan-draped tables, flickering candles, and vibrant wall hangings. Each detail represented her clan’s strength and unity.
“Ye look ready to take on the devil himself,” Brodie said with affectionate humor.
“Perhaps I am,” Moira replied, approaching him.
She observed his subtle wince as he moved to meet her halfway. Though it pained her, she admired his relentless spirit.
“Ye shouldnae strain yerself, Brodie,” she chided gently, grasping his hand.
“Ye know, but I’m done wallowing in my own fears. I’m still alive, and I will make my life the best it can be,” he said, gripping firmly despite evident pain.
“It’s no’ just the clan that needs yer strength. I need ye too, more than ever.”
