Page 18 of Kilted Sins

“He isnae remembered,” Enya pointed out. “Nay one who is alive now kens who he was.”

“An’ yet a part o’ him remains, whether he was a Jarl or a poor soldier.”

“Aye,” said Enya. “That much is true.”

She couldn’t blame Cillian for those ambitions, of course. She understood it, even, this desire to make a lasting impact, to build something of his own. It was a trait necessary in a laird, a force that propelled him forward.

“An’ ye?” Cillian asked. “What dae ye want in life if it isnae tae be remembered?”

Enya didn’t need to think about it. She already knew the answer and had always known it, ever since she was a young girl.

“I wish tae help people as much as I can,” she said. “I wish tae take away their pain an’ save as many lives as I can.”

She had sworn to herself that she would do so and she had never broken that promise since. There was no one else with a gift like hers—at least as far as Enya knew—and though all the burden fell on her when it came to the clan and her people, she didn’t mind shouldering it. It had always been her path, what she had been born for.

When she met Cillian’s gaze, she saw, for the first time, something akin to admiration in them.

CHAPTER TEN

“Good evenin’.”

Thora was the last to enter the great hall, though Cillian couldn’t claim she was late. As soon as she had been summoned, she had appeared, entering the grand room with a graceful stride and a soft smile on her lips, which he couldn’t help but find suspicious. Ever since their talk in the gardens, though, Thora had been uncharacteristically agreeable, doing nothing to embarrass him in front of his council or his men and showing no resistance. She mostly kept to herself, but in Cillian’s eyes, even that was a victory.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t prefer this Thora. Even if he managed to avoid this marriage just as he had always wanted, spending whatever time they had left until then in a tentative, peaceful truce was preferable than arguing constantly over every little thing. And if he didn’t manage to avoid the marriage, then a wife with a gentle disposition was all he could ask for.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought about the change, though. For all he knew, this was nothing more than a ploy, a way to lull him into a false sense of security, and he was loath to admit it was working. Like this, with her tender smiles and the lack of antagonism, Thora was almost charming.

“Lady MacLeod, welcome,” said Cillian as he gestured at everyone to head to the table. As usual, he took the seat at the head and watched as Thora hesitated for only a moment before she sat on the chair one of the servants pulled out for her—the one to his left, right across from Archibald. This time, she made no effort to sit somewhere else, far from Cillian. Just to have something to say to her, he asked, “How has yer day been?”

“Rather pleasant, thank ye,” Thora said, once again uncharacteristically non-confrontational. Cillian didn’t dare hope just yet, though. Something told him a storm was brewing and would come sooner or later in the form of an argument. “An’ yers? It seems like ye are workin’ even now.”

As Thora spoke, her gaze fell on Archibald, who was looking through a stack of papers even though they were all sitting around the dinner table. It was a far more casual affair than the formal dinner they had had, despite the presence of the elders, but even so, Cillian wished Archibald would have listened when he told him work could wait. He would be lying if he said he found the matter so important that it had to be done while he was trying to enjoy his dinner.

Archibald, of course had different ideas.

“We are beginnin’ tae prepare fer the Yule celebrations,” Cillian told Thora. “It is always a grand holiday fer the people o’ the clan.”

“The preparations are well underway,” said Archibald without looking up from his stack of papers. “Mrs. Selkirk is already workin’ with the maids on the decorations an’ decidin’ on the dinner.”

In the absence of a Lady of the Clan, Mrs. Selkirk had taken over the duties that would normally fall on the lady’s shoulders with the kind of practiced skill and easy confidence that came with years of being the head housekeeper of the castle.

“I’d like tae help,” said Thora cheerfully and Cillian couldn’t help but suspect this was the start of the storm. “If I am tae become the Lady o’ the Clan, then this will be one o’ me duties.”

“Perhaps next year,” said Cillian in the hopes that Thora would let the matter end there. Naturally, he wasn’t so lucky.

“Why?” she demanded, turning a curious gaze at him just as the servants began to bring the food out. “Dae ye doubt I am capable?”

Drumming his fingers against the table, Cillian ignored the warning look Archibald gave him and turned to face Thora instead. “Have ye ever organized a feast afore?”

“Aye,” said Thora indignantly. “Well… nae alone, but I work alongside me siblings whenever we have one.”

“Precisely,” said Cillian. “So perhaps it is best if ye see how Mrs. Selkirk daes it this year an’ then we can discuss next year.”

“But Mrs. Selkirk can help Lady MacLeod,” said Duncan from where he sat next to Archibald, ever the traitor. Cillian dragged his gaze over to him to find him smirking in amusement, as though seeing Cillian struggle like this pleased him immensely.

Next to him, Archibald was also smiling, but at least he had the decency to try and hide it behind a piece of paper.

“Surely, it cannae be so difficult if Archibald can dae it,” Duncan added and it was then that Archibald’s smile faded, quickly turning into a scowl. Were it not for the elders around them, Cillian was certain the two of them would have started a childish argument or, at the very least, some shoving, but as it were, Archibald only glared at Duncan while he gave him a teasing grin.