Page 11 of A Sinful Night with a Scot (Bound by a Highland Curse: The Morgan’s Clan Stories #8)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T he sun was well below the horizon when they returned to the castle. Keane dismounted, and then lifted Elsie off her horse, before retrieving the stone they had chosen from his saddlebag. The clipping sound of the horse’s hooves echoed around the courtyard as the stable hands led them away, and as a cool breeze swirled around them, Keane gazed down at Elsie.

“Ye should rest ‘afore the feast tonight. It’s been a long day, and I can assure ye, it’ll be an even longer night.”

She gazed up at him and nodded. “Where will I go?”

“The chamber adjoined tae mine ought tae be ready by now. That’s yer chamber now.”

She held his gaze, the sparkling tension lingering from their time in the cave. Keane struggled to decipher her expression, for a mixture of emotions seemed to cross her face. At any rate, he had his own emotions to handle, for they had swept over him earlier.

Had her thoughts not seeped into his mind, he certainly would have kissed her. But upon hearing her, and more so, hearing the desire in that same thought, he had drawn away, halted in his tracks. He couldn’t deny his own want of her in the moment, and upon leaving, he had concluded that the cave truly was enchanted, for it had relieved him of all rational thought.

Perhaps he had also been drawn in by her story, for what she told him of her father had angered him as much then, as it had when Alisdair had relayed the same. It was evidently clear that she had had experienced a callous childhood, and while Keane now suffered with his own pain, he could, in no way relate, for his father had been nothing but kind, caring, generous, and loyal to both his children and his people.

They were now inside the castle. Keane noticed a considerable difference in the atmosphere since they had left, for the corridors were far busier with servants and maids hurrying one way or another, getting things ready for the feast that would occur later.

Michael approached, and with a warm smile aimed at Elsie, he introduced himself. “This must be the new lady o’ the castle,” he said, bowing toward her. “What a delight tae meet ye, me lady.”

Elsie smiled nervously.

“Michael, may I introduce tae ye, Lady Elsie Mackay,” Keane said. “Elsie, this is Michael Mackay, one o’ the clan’s councilmen. Ye will likely meet the rest o’ the council this evening.”

“How nice tae meet ye,” Elsie said smiling.

“I can tell ye, me lady,” Michael beamed as he gazed at her, “the pleasure is all mine.”

Clearly, he was swept up with Elsie’s exquisiteness, and Keane, watching the old man with a smile of his own, could hardly blame him. She was striking, with a graceful beauty about her.

“We are having a feast in yer honor,” Michael continued. “I dae hope ye will enjoy it.”

“I’m sure, I will,” Elsie replied.

He then gestured to the rock in Keane’s hand. “And I see ye chose yer stone,” he said, looking from Elsie to Keane and back again.

“Aye, I took Elsie tae the waterfall,” Keane said.

“What did ye think o’ our sacred waterfall, me lady?”

“Och,” Elsie gushed, “it is such a wonderful and enchanting place. In fact, I think it is one o’ the most beautiful places I have ever seen,” she said, repeating her earlier words.

“It is rather special,” Michael agreed.

The councilman seemed to linger then, and Keane understood that he wanted to speak with him.

“Go and rest now,” Keane said, looking at his new wife. “I will come and collect ye fer the feast later.”

Elsie nodded to them both, and then headed down the corridor alone.

Keane looked at Michael, his eyebrows lifted expectantly. “Ye want tae speak tae me, Michael.”

“I dae,” the older man said, taking Keane by the elbow and leading him slowly as they walked together. “I cannae help but feel a sense o’ unease among the council after our earlier meeting.”

“Aye.” Keane nodded. “Their arguments were certainly made with passion. But I remain steadfast in me decision.”

“Och, and so ye should.” Michael nodded eagerly. “I suppose I am only worried that with so many being against ye, there might be room fer dissension tae fester. It takes only one spark tae light a fire.”

Michael had been involved in councils long enough to have seen many things in his lifetime, but on this occasion, Keane thought the man was worrying about nothing, and said so.

“I dinnae think we have anything tae worry about, me friend. They will come around. Laird Gunn attacking us was inevitable nae matter what action I took.”

The old man smiled and looked up at him. “Aye. And I can see now, why ye couldnae have done it. Taken her life, I mean,” he said knowingly.

Keane smirked. “There were other reasons.”

“Aye. Course there were,” he chuckled. “Well, I have taken up enough o’ yer time. I will look forward tae seeing ye later at the celebration feast.”

Keane nodded, and as the men parted ways, he took long determined strides in the direction of his study. He could well do with a rest himself before tonight’s festivities, but a laird did not have such privileges. Besides, there was something he needed to do.

Once sat at his desk with his tools beside him, he cleaned the stone of any debris and looked at it for a long moment. Traditionally, the stone was marked with simple engravings, something that reflected the clan or the person the clan was welcoming into their fold. Keane now had to decide what, other than the symbol of Clan Mackay, he desired to put on it.

A light smile crossed his lips when he came to a final decision, and taking a small hammer and chisel, he began. The tiny chisel dug into the stone as he slowly chipped away, a fine pile of dust gathering on his desk as he continued.

As he worked, his mind wandered once more, back to the waterfall and the cave. Elsie truly had been mesmerized by the place, and he had watched her with a sense of wonder as she had taken in all that surrounded her. She was beautiful without even trying, but her face expressed such animated emotion that he had been unable to take his eyes off her.

And then, she had said words that had pained him, though he had clenched his jaw and swallowed down his expression.

“I ken ye dinnae really want me here.”

He had opened his mouth to deny that fact, but worried he would stop her from continuing, he had swiftly closed it again. But her next words pained him no less.

“I cannae cope with yer inconsistency, fer I never ken what ye’re going tae dae next, and I fear it might eventually drive me mad.”

Inconsistency had never been his aim. In fact, at the beginning, he had been determined not to allow himself to be sucked in by her beauty, her smile, and her wit. On the occasions he was, the tenderness toward her had leaked out of him almost uncontrollably, only for him to realize what was happening too late.

In truth, his cruelty to her had been a result of his own lack of self-control. Yet, as he had discovered once more today, where Elsie was concerned, his restraint was near transparent, as strong as a fading mist in the early morning.

A knock on the study door interrupted his thoughts, and upon lifting his head, he watched as Alisdair wandered into the study.

“Ye’re back,” he declared, as though seeing Keane sitting at the desk was not enough evidence, and he somehow needed to confirm it.

“I am.” Keane smirked.

“And ye got yer stone,” Alisdair said, again stating the obvious.

“Are ye planning on saying anything I dinnae already ken,” Keane quipped.

“Ye’re an arse,” Alisdair chuckled.

“I said, anything I dinnae already ken,” Keane repeated.

They both chuckled then.

Alisdair dropped into a chair beside the fire as Keane continued to work on his engraving. “Well, that was a hell o’ a few days.”

“Indeed, it was,” Keane agreed. “And we are returned safe and well with nae casualties, which, under the circumstances, is a bloody miracle.”

“Aye, it is that. I was certain we were going tae lose someone at the chapel.”

“Maybe we dinnae give the men enough credit.” Keane grinned.

“Nae. I think it is more likely that they want tae please their laird, nae matter the mission.”

Keane sensed the terse undertone to Alisdair’s words at what he had done, but he ignored it. In truth, Alisdair could have made their mission far more difficult. In fact, he could have refused to join him altogether, he was so against it. But his loyalty was the strongest bond they shared. A bond forged on battles, and losses, and celebrations, and years of being there at each other’s side.

“Did Elspeth choose the stone?” Alisdair asked.

“Elsie,” Keane corrected before being able to stop himself.

Though he was concentrating on his engraving, he heard Alisdair swiftly turn in his chair. A second later, the man was on his feet and strolling over to the desk. Rounding behind Keane, he looked over his shoulder.

“Me God! What the devil happened in that cave?”

“Enough,” Keane said, carefully carving the final letter with delicate strokes.

For a while, Alisdair remained behind him, watching with what Keane imagined, was eager interest, and ten minutes later the stone was finished. Keane blew the dust from the deep crevices of the letters, and then, taking a damp cloth, he wiped the stone clean.

“Done,” he said, gazing down at it.

The clan symbol stood proudly at the base of the stone, and above it, the letters that spelt out the name of the newest clan member.

Elsie

“I have tae say, me friend,” Alisdair said, clapping Keane’s shoulder. “I’m impressed. After everything that’s gone on between ye two in the last couple o’ days, I couldnae imagine I’d be looking at that. Under the circumstances, yer kindness is a breath o’ fresh air.”

Keane didn’t answer for a long moment, and then he nodded. “Aye, well, that cave does things tae a man.”

Alisdair chuckled and wandered over to where the decanters of amber liquid sat on the dresser. “Och, now. Is that ye trying tae deny that ye actually have a heart?” he said, pouring whisky into two glasses.

Keane stood and moved to the chair beside the fire. Alisdair joined him, handing him a glass as he sat.

“I dinnae ken. Maybe,” he said, wondering if that might possibly be true. “But then…”

“What?” Alisdair pressed.

“Och, it doesnae matter.”

“Tell me.”

“I told Elsie the waterfall was a sacred place of vows and fidelity. Once we climbed up and intae the cave, she suggested we make a sacred vow o’ our own.”

Alisdair leaned forward a little, clearly interested in what Keane was about to say.

“We made a vow tae treat each other better. After that, she told me why she hated her name.”

“Why does she hate her name?” Alisdair asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Keane curled his lip, recalling what she had told him about how her father had treated her all her life. “It’s what her faither calls her. Ye ken? The man whose parental skills are worse than a stray dog.”

“Ah,” Alisdair said with a nod. “Well, that explains a lot.” He paused a beat, and then continued. “But I’m glad the two o’ ye vowed tae be better tae each other. How things have been over these last few days couldnae have carried on. Nae if she is going tae be a permanent fixture around here. She’s yer wife now, and ye have a duty tae treat her as such.”

His companion’s words were truer than he realized, but Keane kept Elsie’s earlier painful observations about his actions to himself. He then sighed heavily.

“Something else is bothering ye,” Alisdair said. “Is it the fact that Laird Gunn is likely to attack soon?”

Keane’s eyebrows knotted together, for that thought couldn’t be farther from his mind. He shook his head. “Nay. It’s something far more pressing than that.”

Alisdair sat up a little straighter and looked shocked. “What could possibly be more pressing than that?” he gawked.

Keane then lifted his gaze and looked Alisdair straight in the eye. “I think I might be in trouble.” Once more, Alisdair looked stunned and now, more than a little confused. Keane then continued. “I think I might have taken a liking tae me new wife.”

His friend’s eyes widened, but then he smiled knowingly, and he nodded. “Well, I could have told ye that. Though admittedly, ye have a strange way o’ showing it.” Alisdair leaned forward again. “Surely, this can only be a good thing, Keane.”

But Keane shook his head. “Nae at all,” he blurted.

“But, why?”

Keane took a long draw on his drink, and then let out a heavy sigh. Looking intently at the amber liquid that clung to the sides of his glass, he spoke again, his voice low, feeling more vulnerable than he had in a long time. “I’m afraid,” he murmured.