Elise said nothing, but she could see how troubled Andrea was. The woman was afraid. Afraid of the dire situation that Islay found itself in, afraid of what the pirate attacks meant for the people of the island, afraid of what the future might bring. Her gaze strayed to the high table where several stoppered bottles sat in the center. She got up and fetched a couple of them.
Sitting herself back down opposite Andrea, she pulled out the stopper of one with her teeth, took hold of a couple of the goblets the housekeeper had been cleaning, and poured them both a drink.
“What are ye doing?” Andrea asked.
“What’s it look like? It’s been a…challenging…day for both of us. I think we’ve earned a little something to help us relax.” She held one of the goblets out to Andrea.
The housekeeper eyed it, hesitating. “I shouldnae…”
“Yes, you should. That’s an order from a MacFinnan spellweaver.”
With a small smile, Andrea took the goblet. “In that case, I dinna have much choice, do I?”
“No,” Elise grinned. “You don’t.” She held up her own cup. “I propose a toast. To housekeepers everywhere!” She knocked her drink back and the whisky burned down her throat like lava, making Elise cough and splutter. “Whoa! That’s good!”
Andrea laughed and copied Elise, downing her whisky. She didn’t even so much as wince.
“Another!” Elise cried, pouring them both a second round. The whisky left a lovely warm feeling in the pit of her stomach and began to unknot some of the tension that she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying there.
The door to the great hall suddenly swung open, and a burly man entered, dressed in plain, homespun clothes that left his thick arms bare. Elise hadn’t been introduced to him, but she’d spotted him working in the smithy. She waved him over.
“Hello! Come and join us!”
The man started in surprise but did as commanded. As he settled his weight on the bench beside Andrea, Elise poured him a drink and pushed the goblet across the table towards him. “Do either of you know any decent songs?”
When her two drinking buddies looked at each other blankly, she waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. I know plenty.” She held up her goblet and tapped it to each of theirs in turn. “Cheers!”
*
Jamie’s growling stomachtold him that he was late for the evening meal. As he crossed the courtyard towards the keep, thesun was lowering towards the horizon. He’d spent all afternoon patrolling the coast and now exhaustion made his limbs feel heavy. All he wanted to do was throw food down his throat and then collapse into bed.
He pushed open the main doors to the keep and strode inside, pausing as he reached the door to the great hall. It stood closed, and a racket was coming from the other side. He heard laughter. Singing. Someone playing a fiddle. What the—?
He eased the door open slightly and slipped into the cavernous room unnoticed. Not all the torches had been lit, which meant the outer edges of the room were bathed in shadow. He paused in these shadows and took in the scene before him. The tables that filled the great hall were crowded with people. Half-eaten platters of food lay scattered on the tables, and everyone seemed to have a drink in their hands. And, he noticed, everyone was turned towards one of the tables over by the fireplace—the table where most of the racket was coming from.
Andrea sat at one of the benches, along with Talbot, the blacksmith, and it seemed, half the castle staff. They were singing raucously, a song that Jamie had never heard before but seemed to be something about whisky in a jar. Bryn, one of the stable lads, was accompanying them on the fiddle.
And in the center of it all, sat Elise.
Her cheeks were rosy as she belted out the song, and her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. She looked, Jamie thought, entirely at home, as though she’d always been part of his place, rather than having been here little more than a day.
The song finally came to an end, and everyone broke out into a chorus of laughter and applause. Warmth and light filled the great hall like it hadn’t for a long time. Jamie couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his people laughing so much or seen so much joy in their faces.
All because of her. Elise MacFinnan. She commanded the center of the room like some actor on a stage, a beacon of light in the gloom. He could see it in the way his people leaned towards her. He could feel it in the way his chest swelled with a sensation he couldn’t quite name.
Was this MacFinnan spellweaving at work? No. It was just her. All her. Elise MacFinann had magic that went far beyond her spellweaving powers.
Part of him longed to go join his people. To joinher. But he held himself back. His presence would only dampen the atmosphere. He was their laird, their chieftain, and should he join them, the strictures of hierarchy would snap back into place and the easy fellowship that Elise had engendered would be lost.
Let them enjoy themselves. Let them remember what it was to feel alive.
Jamie slipped quietly out of the great hall and made his way up to his chamber alone.
Chapter Eight
“Are the menready?” Jamie asked Albie.
The big man nodded, the fingers of one hand stroking his graying beard. “Aye. They’re ready. We’re all bloody ready. The ship is provisioned and we await only the high tide. We can sail within the hour.”
