Jamie himself had many happy memories of the festival—the firelight, the dancing, the baked apples and barrels of mead. Laughter. Singing. Sparks from the fire whirling into the dark night like fireflies.
“Nay,” he said. “It might be an excess, but God knows we need a celebration now more than ever. The harvest dance will go ahead as planned.”
Phillip scowled. “Fine. But whether we cancel the festival or not, we still need to increase our imports. The treasury is in good standing. We shouldnae have any problems meeting the increased expense.”
Jamie felt his stomach tighten and it wasn’t at the thought ofincreased expense. What did he care for money when his people were in danger of starving? No, what made his insides coil with dread was the thought of asking for more ships to brave the dangers between the mainland and the Isles, asking more crews to run the gauntlet of the pirates.
How could he put more of his people in danger? Yet, what choice did he have? What else could he do?
Phillip studied him as though he could read his laird’s mind. “There is another way, my laird. A way we can be rid of this threat before the winter storms close in. A way we can ensure the shipping routes are clear enough to bring in all the supplies we need.” He laid a hand on Jamie’s arm. “Ye know what that is.”
Aye, he knew what that was. Marriage to Margaret of Concressault. Selling his islands to James of Scotland. Elise’s face flashed into his mind, and he knew he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.
He shook his head. “Nay, my friend. We’ll figure this out. I willnae bargain away my people’s freedom.”And I won’t marry a woman I don’t love.
Anger flashed in Phillip’s eyes, hot and bright. But it was gone in an instant as he mastered himself. He bowed stiffly. “As my laird commands. If ye will excuse me, I have work to do.”
He turned and walked away, looking like a man carrying too many burdens. Jamie knew exactly how that felt.
*
“Ow! Damn it!”
Elise swore loudly as the comb snagged in her hair for the umpteenth time. Resolutely, she worked at the tangle, cursing the useless implements they called combs in this time. She considered asking Andrea to come brush her hair but that would just make her look like a useless idiot.
Brushher hair? That was a joke. This was more like pulling her hair out by the roots. If she kept up like this, she’d be bald by the time she went home.
She harrumphed and set the comb down on the table. She was in a foul mood this morning and it wasn’t the comb’s fault. She hadn’t slept well, and lack of sleep always made her grouchy. She hadn’t been able to settle and had found her thoughts churning round and round in her head. Memories of the battle with the pirates kept replaying through her mind like some bad movie. The screaming of the pirates. The exultation as her power thundered through her. That had been the scariest part of it all: how much she’d enjoyed it.
There was at a knock at the door.
“Come in!” Elise called, glad of any distraction.
The door opened and a maid stuck her head through. She had golden hair tied into a bun and a warm smile. Alice. That was her name. Elise dimly remembered putting her arm around her shoulders as they belted outWhisky in the Jarthe other night.
“Morning, Elise,” Alice said brightly. “Oh, ye are dressed already.”
The fear and deference with which she’d been initially treated by the castle’s inhabitants had, thankfully, waned. At least her drunken performance had been good for something.
Elise stood and did a little twirl. “Ta-da! Got myself into the dress unaided and everything. I’m quite proud of myself. Although,” she added, turning her back to Alice, “I couldn’t quite reach the hooks near my shoulders. Would you mind?”
Alice walked over and began doing up the hooks, pulling the dress tighter across the bodice. “When ye are ready, Phillip MacClelland asks for yer presence in the great hall.”
“Oh? What for?”
“He didnae say,” Alice replied. “Only that he’s got something for ye.”
Elise thanked Alice for her help and then made her way down to the great hall. Although she’d dragged herself out of bed as early as she’d been able, she was still late, and breakfast was being cleared up as she walked into the large room.
Her eyes flicked around the almost empty hall, hoping to catch sight of Jamie, but he was nowhere to be seen. Already out and about doing his chieftainly duties, no doubt, but Elise couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment at his absence.
She snagged herself a couple of pieces of bannock before they could be cleared away, smeared them with butter, and stuffed one into her mouth as she went over to the far side of the hall where Phillip MacClelland was sitting at a table with his back to her.
“Morning,” she said with her mouth full.
Phillip looked up. “Ah! Elise! There ye are.” He indicated the table in front of him which was strewn with documents. “I’ve brought what ye asked for.”
“You have?”
