Page 56 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

Everythin’ will be fine, as long as I have me family.

That night, Fia and Bane once again found themselves at the laird’s table, having another dinner that felt too formal for them. She knew, of course, why Knox kept inviting them to such dinners and always tried to find ways to have her near him, but Fia couldn’t help but wish she could somehow reject the invitation.

Not only did she find it painful to be near Knox, but she also found the dinners themselves painful. Even now, neither she nor Bane fit in with the rest of the crowd. They neither knew how to speak to the nobles around them, or how to discuss the matters they did, or copy their gestures and mannerisms. Eating with so many utensils had only just gotten easier for Fia, but she still had trouble remembering which was for what function.

Her only solace was that every time Effie sat next to her on such occasions—which was more often than not—she gently and subtly reminded her which utensil to use whenever she hesitated. If any of the nobles around her noticed, they hadn’t dared say a thing on the matter. Ever since they had seen how Knox berated those who spoke ill of her or Bane, they had stopped making comments at their expense.

That, at least, was a relief.

The sound of a polite cough caught Fia’s attention and she glanced at the head of the table to see Knox standing, a cup of wine in his hand.

“A toast,” he said, and all the chatter around the table died down as the rest of the guests raised their cups to match him. “Tae Miss MacKenzie, who only yesterday delivered a wee bairn an’ saved it an’ the maither from harm. We dinnae ken what may have happened had we nae been caught in that storm an’ Miss MacKenzie hadnae been there tae help.”

Fia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment at being the center of attention. She was far from used to it. In fact, she had spent most of her life bleeding into the background, never once drawing anyone’s attention on her. Callum was the first one to ever notice her, and he had only done it for a bet. Now that the attention was genuine and all these people around the table looked at her with bright smiles—some of them genuine—she didn’t know what to do with herself.

Should I stand? Should I say somethin’?

“Thank ye, me laird,” she said in the end, deciding it was best to keep it short as to avoid any more unwanted attention—or even worse, a blunder. “I’m only glad I was there tae help.”

Knox tilted his head and raised his cup even higher in the air. “Tae yer health, Fia.”

Somehow, the sound of her name was more intimate than Fia had expected. Not only that, but all the kindness he had shown her, all the love, even the hospitality when he hadn’t even known her for more than a day—they all made her plan to win his favor seem so foolish, so banal. Upon arrival, she had thought Knox would simply be a useful tool, a noble like all the others who had scorned her from the moment she had stepped foot in the great hall. But Knox wasn’t like that. He spoke of Fia’s kindness and bravery often, but he was the one who was kind, who was truly brave.

As Knox took his seat once more, Fia’s gaze fell to her plate. Her appetite was gone. All she wanted was to leave the great hall and retreat to the safety of her cottage—not the one within castle grounds, but the one back in Duror, her real home.

Maybe, just maybe, she would end up back there sooner than she thought.

“I’ll wed Fia,” Knox announced and, just as he had expected, Magnus let out a weary sigh and buried his face in his hands. The two of them were in Knox’s study, sharing a drink after the dinner, and Knox couldn’t wait any longer to announce the news.

“So, ye’ve made up yer mind,” Magnus said, leaning back in his seat and downing the rest of his wine. “An’ the council?”

“I dinnae care about the council.”

Knox had given it plenty of thought. He had worried about the council’s opinion for so long, agonizing over what they might say and do, that he had forgotten the most important thing of all.

He simply did not care.

He didn’t care what the elders might say. He didn’t care if they disagreed with his choice or if they were going to put up a fight, desperately trying to convince him to reconsider. He didn’t even care if they tried to sabotage the wedding. Knox had made up his mind and there was no turning back.

“I see,” said Magnus. “Well, in that case, I wish ye two the very best. As long as ye’re prepared tae deal with what’s tae come, I’ll stand by yer side.”

Knox had expected nothing less from Magnus. He had never gone against his decisions or his desires, and he wasn’t going to start now, but it was still good to hear it from the man himself. Knox needed Magnus’ support now more than ever. Without him by his side, he didn’t know how he could ever stand in front of the council and give them the same announcement.

“When will ye tell them?” Magnus asked. “Dae ye want me tae be there?”

“O’ course,” said Knox. “But I should ask Fia first. It would be presumptuous o’ me tae simply think that’s what she wishes.”

“Isnae it?” Magnus asked, and Knox had to ask himself the same question. He knew Fia had to be feeling the same way he did. He knew they shared a deep, profound love, but even so, he didn’t want to assume.

“I dinnae ken,” he admitted. “She… she has been through much. She was meant tae wed a man afore she came here, she told me. But from what she said, he hurt her terribly, left her afore the proposal.”

Magnus leaned closer, his eyes wide with surprise. “Truly? How terrible.”

“It is,” Knox agreed. “I dinnae understand how anyone would leave such a lass.”

“The heart often works in mysterious ways,” Magnus pointed out. “Perhaps somethin’ happened, perhaps he had other issues.”

“Perhaps,” Knox said, but something about it still didn’t sit right with him. He had the suspicion it may have been something far more complex, something he may never fully understand. “It’s such a shame, how much he hurt her. But once I make her me wife, she willnae have tae ever fear a thing.”