Page 28 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

As they worked, servants came and went, each seeking Niamh's guidance on various matters. But instead of dismissing Iona's presence, Niamh included her in every decision, asking her thoughts and treating her suggestions with genuine consideration.

"The banner fer the hall entrance," one servant asked. "Should it be the formal clan colors or something more festive?"

"What dae ye think, Iona?" Niamh asked. "Ye have an eye fer these things."

"Perhaps both?" Iona suggested. "The formal banner as the centerpiece, but with festive ribbons woven through it? It would honor tradition while celebrating the joy of the season."

"Perfect," Lady Niamh responded. "Dae as she says."

The servant said, bowing. "I'll see tae it immediately, me lady." The servant turned to Iona and bowed, "Me lady," before leaving the room.

Me lady. The title sent a warm flutter through Iona's chest.

"Ye have good instincts," Niamh said as they reviewed the final arrangements. "The clan will be lucky tae have ye as their lady."

"I hope I can be half as good at it as ye've been," Iona said sincerely.

"Ye'll be better," Niamh replied with a smile. "Because ye'll bring yer own strengths tae the role. That's what makes a truly great lady—not copying what came before but making it one’s own."

As the afternoon wore on, Iona found herself smiling more than she had in days. Her opinions mattered. Her ideas were valued. For the first time since her wedding, she felt like she was contributing something meaningful to her new home.

This is what I was missing. Nae just tasks tae fill me time, but purpose. A way tae serve the clan that's taken me in.

That evening, Iona could barely contain her excitement as she prepared for bed. The moment Ruaridh entered their chamber, words began tumbling from her lips.

"Ye wouldnae believe how much there is tae organizing a proper celebration," she said, brushing her hair with quick, animated strokes. "Yer maither has been planning this fer weeks—the musicians alone required three separate arrangements, and then there's the matter of seating, as the MacLeods and the Campbells cannae sit too close together after some dispute about cattle last spring."

She turned from the mirror, gesturing with her brush. "And the food! I never realized how much thought goes into a feast menu. It's nae just about what tastes good—ye have tae consider what's available, what stores well, what the children will eat, what shows proper respect tae visiting dignitaries..."

"Breathe, lass," Ruaridh muttered, settling onto his sleeping mat.

But Iona was too caught up in her enthusiasm to slow down. "Oh, and I learned the most fascinating thing about the summer solstice traditions! Did ye ken that the original celebration involved⁠—"

She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly aware that Ruaridh's green eyes were crinkling at the corners in a way that made him look even younger than he was.

"What?" she demanded, blushing.

"Nothing," he said, his expression turning carefully neutral once again. "It's just... ... ye remind me of someone I used tae ken."

There she was, chattering like a magpie when he'd probably had a long, difficult day dealing with clan business. Or was he teasing her? She grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and hurled it at him.

"Dinnae mock me!"

He caught the pillow easily, without looking her way. "I'm nae mocking ye, lass, I'm⁠—"

But his words were cut off as her eyes went wide with horror at what she'd just done. She'd thrown something at her husband. At the future laird of Clan MacDuff. What was wrong with her?

Ruaridh seemed to understand her mortification immediately. Instead of scolding her, he simply doubled it up with his own pillow behind his head and settled back more comfortably on his mat.

"Thank ye," he said. There was some amusement in his tone and for a moment, she had thought she'd glimpsed the boy he'd been. But then his walls slammed back into place, and his expression shuttered. "That's much better. I'm glad me maither found ye useful work." He turned his back to her, and he added, "And once we secure the borders against MacNab, the clan should enjoy relative peace. Ye'll have plenty of time tae put yer own mark on our traditions."

The mention of Murray brought her tumbling down to earth, draining all the joy from the evening in an instant. Peace. He thought they could have peace once they had dealt with Murray's immediate threat. But he didn't understand—Murray would never stop. Not until he'd permanently silenced her, destroyed anyone who knew his secrets.

There would be no peace. Not ever.

"Iona?" Ruaridh's voice carried concern now. "What's wrong? Ye've gone pale."

She turned away from him, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. "Naething. I'm just... tired. It's been a long day."