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“For me?”
“Why are ye so surprised?” Mairi asked. “Ye are our guest, after all. It is only proper to throw a feast for ye.”
Nimue didn’t consider herself their guest as much as their prisoner, despite what she had told Chrisdean while they were traveling to the castle. She had been prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt at first, but with every passing day, it became crystal clear to her that she was nothing but his prisoner, despite what seemed to her like attempts to make her feel at ease. Surely, Chrisdean was smarter than to think that all it would take for Nimue not to feel like she was being detained and used would be a feast and a beautiful room.
“Rest,” Mairi said before Nimue could say anything else. “And dinna think so much.”
With that, Mairi was gone, and Nimue was left gaping at the door. How could she tell her not to think? How could Nimue not worry? How could she do anything but wish for her safe return home?
No one was there to answer her questions, and when the maids came, she bathed and dressed in a night garment in silence. Once they were gone, she made her way to the bed, fully expecting to stay awake until dinner.
She was asleep within seconds, from the moment her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion from the previous days catching up with her.
When Nimue was awakened by a maid who called her for dinner, she didn’t know what time it was or even where she was. It took her a few moments to remember that she wasn’t home but, rather, up in the Highlands, and once she did, sorrow and anger overtook her.
She missed her home. She even missed her father, despite the fights they had been having before she had been taken. She missed her people and her room, and most of all, she missed being free to do as she pleased.
With a sigh, she stood and dressed in the clothes that the maids had given her, a fiery red dress that complimented her brown hair and eyes. She looked at herself in the mirror, her hands smoothing over the fabric, and she knew that when she would join the feast, many heads would turn to look at her.
It was nothing that she wasn’t used to. Being the daughter of a powerful Laird came with a lot of stares. Now, though, she dreaded them. She didn’t know any of those people, but what she did know was that they would whisper behind her back, and she doubted that their words would be kind.
Get yerself together. Ye’ve done this before, ye ken what to do.
Nimue left her chambers with a sharp breath and began to roam around the castle in search of the feast. When she finally made it to the room, she saw that it was packed to the brim with people, as though the entire MacIntosh clan were there—and perhaps it was.
Just as she had expected, everyone’s gaze was on her the moment that she stepped foot in the room. Her own gaze, though, was pinned straight ahead, as she didn’t want to face any of the people who were looking at her, but she didn’t want to stare at the floor either. It just so happened that Chrisdean was sitting at the main table, right across from her at the other side of the room and that their gazes met when she began to walk towards him, knowing that the empty seat next to him was reserved for her.
Simply looking at him made the bile rise to the back of her throat. Nimue couldn’t stand to be close to that man, and she didn’t think that she would be able to hold her tongue if she spent the entire night by his side, so before she made it to his table, Nimue turned and walked to one of the others, sitting down at the first empty seat that she found.
The entire room fell silent, even the whispers of those around her dying down almost immediately. For a moment, no one seemed to know how to react to her clear disobedience, and neither did Nimue. Had she made a terrible mistake that she would never be able to take back? Had she insulted Chrisdean so much that he would stop all pretense and begin to treat her like a real prisoner?
And would Nimue prefer that, she wondered. It would make everything clearer, that much was certain, but it could also mean that she would be mistreated.
She held her breath for what seemed like eons, watching Chrisdean from the corner of her eye. In the end, the man simply sighed and turned to Brock, saying something that Nimue couldn’t quite catch, and the conversations around her began once more, as though nothing had happened.
This clan sure kens how to pretend that everythin’ is fine.
Even though Nimue fought with her father often, at least neither of them pretended that there wasn’t tension between them. She loved that about him, loved that they could both have their space and their time to be angry with each other until they were ready to forgive and forget.
With the MacIntosh clan, nothing seemed that easy.
For a while, no one bothered Nimue, and she didn’t try to strike up a conversation with anyone else. She didn’t even eat or drink, thinking that she couldn’t stomach any of it. It didn’t take long for Mairi to find her way to her table, though, and to sit down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I believe that seat over there is for ye, Nimue,” Mairi told her. “But ye ken that already.”
It wasn’t a question but rather a statement, Nimue could tell. “Aye, I ken. But I dinna wish to sit next to him. I dinna wish to talk to him. I dinna wish to look at him. Ye must ken that he brought me here against me will.”
Mairi seemed to tense at that, her lips pursing into a tight, thin line. “He has his reasons, lass,” she told her. “I ken that it must be hard for ye—”
“Hard?” Nimue scoffed, shaking her head. “He ripped me out of me home. He took me away from me family, and I dinna even ken what he wants with me. All I want is an explanation. I dinna want a feast, I dinna want to talk, I dinna want excuses. I only want an explanation.”
Mairi nodded in understanding as she let her hand slip of Nimue’s shoulder. “Ye’ll have yer explanation tonight,” she said. “Chrisdean told me so himself. So, ye may wish to sit next to him and talk to him. Ye may wish to ken what he has to say to ye.”
Nimue glanced at Chrisdean and found him staring at her. At that moment, she wasn’t so certain whether she wanted to know, after all.
