Page 34 of Twelfth Knight’s Bride

Frowning further, James leaned close to Aileana, but she pushed to standing before he could say another word, scooting back her chair with a slow scrape that echoed off the plastered stone. Rapt with interest, quiet mutters ensued, hanging on the silence for the new woman to speak, and James’s ears didn’t lie. Knowing remarks that the bean must have been intentionally given to her tainted the mood.

She cleared her throat again. Pulled her Grant tartan tighter around her shoulders. Looked down at James, then at Brighde, then out at everyone.

“I ken my coming here must have been a surprise.”

A few muffled snorts sounded, and that anger James had felt at his people today burgeoned anew. He scraped back his chair, shoving to his feet to confront the problem head-on; his jaw tightened, his teeth clenched so firmly, they would ache come the morrow.

“Nay, James. It’s all right,” Aileana muttered, grasping his forearm to stay him.

“It’s nay all right,” he growled, then turned to the great hall to administer the scolding he’d been mulling over all day. “Where is yer hospitality?”

The mutters ceased, and all eyes widened upon him. Did he look as irritated as he felt?

“Please,” she said softly, and squeezed him.

He gazed down at her, feeling himself soften. This is what Seamus must have felt like when his youngest sister challenged him at every turn: wishing he could silence her, yet the soft tones of her voice and passion lighting her bonny eyes stayed a man who cared about her and willed him to listen to what she had to say. Duly quelled, he nodded stoutly and eased back to his rear, though he remained on edge.

“It was a surprise to me, too, for I didnae expect to be bartered in a marriage deal the day yer laird rode to our gates. He has his reasons for demanding marriage. Mayhap it truly is to try and bring my brother to his heel.”

Again, James felt the need to rise, this time to defend himself, but defend himself from what? His reasons had been just as selfish, even if it was what he had to do to get the money. Yet Aileana didn’t give him a chance to speak as she continued.

“I remember no such day, in either my lifetime or in the lore that has gone down in history betwixt our people, when the Grants and the MacDonalds have ever bestowed a single kindness upon the other. The true reasons for our rivalry, I do nay even ken. Do ye?”

The hall remained silent. The hearth flames danced and crackled, and one of his hunting hounds paced across the floor, rummaging for food scraps.

“I understand why ye dislike me. In sooth, I thought much ill of yer laird…until I met him.” Her eyes once more fluttered down to him but didn’t remain upon him. “To me, a MacDonald was always a beastly, frightening warrior, with a face painted in woad and mud, raising their swords high, battle cries spilling from their lips, destroying our home. Burning all we had worked so hard to plant and reap, stealing our livelihood, making widows out of our maids, and leaving my sister and me terrified, in hiding, and with naught. But that’s nay who ye really are. Is it? Since coming here, I’ve seen jolly folk, anxious to sing and celebrate. Children healthy and excited for Christmastide. I’ve heard stories about yer suffering that ring true in mine own ears, of losing everything due to my brother’s raid upon ye. And I’ve come to understand that the anger and passion that lies betwixt us is shared mutually by us.”

James peeled his gaze away from the command Aileana gripped upon the hall, and he once more perused his peoples’ faces. Who knew she might be an inspiring speaker? As if spellbound, they listened to her every word.

“I’ve never gotten the bean before tonight.” She held up the bean for the hall to see. “And I ken my finding it seems unfair to many of ye because of my surname. And so, for my wish, and since the Lady Brighde willnae take it as I requested—”

She cast a fond smile down at his sister now, and Brighde reciprocated, taking Aileana’s hand in hers and squeezing it. A wistful smile feathered across James’s lips, realizing that on this front, he’d been right. Brighde missed having a sister, and although no one could replace Marjorie, it was because of Marjorie’s lot in an enemy clan’s household that Brighde could be as sympathetic as she was. Aileana might one day fill that void Marjorie’s absence had left. If only she would choose to stay.

“I make a wish for all of ye, instead.” An impish smile tipped up her lips, lighting her face and causing her hazel eyes, made bright and rich green by the glowing hearth and torchlight, to glow like jewels. Sakes, what stunt was she about to pull? “’Tis my wish that ye each get a wish.”

Some murmurs and a few chuckles filtered through the silence now. Aileana smiled at them.

“We all get a wish?” The murmurs rippled across the hall. “What would ye wish for?”

“And what if I refuse?” James jested now, feeling the pinch in his chest relent an increment, unable to resist his own smile as the chattering grew louder. He stood once more. “Ye heard Angus. Last year he begged for a pile of gold. They’ll break my coffers, woman.”

Aileana shrugged, though her smile turned coy upon him. “Ye cannae refuse now, for it’s been so declared. And it’s a good thing ye’re wealthy.”

The playfulness soured on his tongue. Nay. He wasn’t wealthy. The whole reason he’d tried to force this marriage had been for his inheritance. Hadn’t it? Aye. And nay. Ye took one look at this hellion. Ye listened to her spiked barbs, and ye wanted to parry with her. Ye wanted to ken everything about a wee Grant woman who’d dare to steal from a MacDonald. Careful, man, that she doesnae crawl beneath yer skin and steal into yer heart, as well.

Chapter Eight

27th of December

The hall was lively as a bard sang and musicians played in anticipation of the Yule log lighting. Aileana couldn’t remember a time when such merrymaking had graced the halls of Urquhart. She watched maids dance with soldiers, smiles on their faces. Guarded smiles cast her way from time to time, too. What should she make of that? Guardsmen chanted along to the bard’s song with tankards held high, and children dashed about, weaving through the others and sneaking nibbles off platters. She smiled at their antics.

“The dancing is merry,” Lady Brighde said beside her as they bound their ashen twigs for the Yule fire. “Do ye think ye’ll try dancing tonight? I was sad to see ye skip the fanfare last night.”

Lord no. The commons floor would probably clear of all the people wanting to evade proximity to a Grant. She swallowed. Still, ever since arriving, Brighde had made an effort to be welcoming and charitable, just as James had promised she would, and Aileana would foster the chance to be sisterly.

“I admit, I’m tired this eve, but will enjoy watching the festivities. And ye?” she replied. “Do ye plan to dance?”

Brighde grinned. “The night away, aye. This is my favorite season. I enjoy this comradery and warmth and cannae imagine a winter without it.”