Page 28 of Highlander’s Captive Bride (Troubles of Highland Lasses #4)

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A flurry of commotion followed Nylah’s every step as she walked through McAlister Castle. Meal preparations were well underway, and the smell of the roasting meat made her mouth water. The castle was warm and full of chatter, as always. As she passed a large window within the stone walls, Nylah could see a rare break in the hazy clouds perpetually hanging over the Highlands, a sign from the fairies that today would be a beautiful day.

Making her way down to the grand hall, Nylah was stopped by a gaggle of servants peppering her with questions about the upcoming settling of disputes.

“I assure ye, I have it well at hand, Duncan. But do keep Mr. MacKenzi away from the stronger spirits this time.”

Duncan nodded knowingly, and Nylah gave him a soft smile. A repeat of the last hearing’s excitement was well at the bottom of Nylah’s desires.

As she finished assuaging their fears, another of her close attendants approached, carrying a folded letter in her hand.

“Caitlin?”

Caitlin curtsied before standing to address Nylah. “Me Lady, a letter has come for ye.”

“Thank ye, dear.”

Nylah took the letter and opened it hastily. She was expecting a few letters, and it might be one in particular. As her eyes scanned the greeting and first line, the happy words of her dear friend, Mara, whispered through her mind.

Mara wrote that the Archery Society, which she and Nylah had long been a part of, was glad to accept Nylah’s invitation to host this year’s competition at the castle. Nylah’s heart soared. She’d been so hopeful that the committee would allow her to host this time, and readying the grounds for such an event would be more than exciting.

With wide, glad eyes, Nylah looked up from the letter to Caitlin, who was waiting to hear the news.

“Och, it’s terrific, Cait. We will be hosting the archery competition!” Nylah steadied herself, considering. “There’s so much to do. I must tell Sienna. She’ll be so thrilled.”

“Would ye like me to inform the others, Me Lady?”

“Aye, please. We’ll have to arrange the grounds and the hall, we’ll need to make accommodations for the clans, and of course, there’s the food. Let everyone know the good news.”

“Very well, Me Lady. It will be most entertaining. I cannae wait to watch ye shoot.”

Nylah could barely contain her excitement to inform her sister-in-law of the news, and she hurried to Sienna’s chambers to deliver the exciting update. But before she could reach her, Aaron approached, and speaking to him whenever the opportunity arose had become one of her unspoken rules.

Aaron had been the advisor to her absent husband’s late father, and the wealth of knowledge he possessed had seen her through many a trying time. Nylah treasured his counsel so much so that she’d come to see him as something of a father, which was much appreciated, considering her own had died before she could form a solid memory of him.

“Aaron, how are ye?” Nylah smiled warmly, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Me Lady.” Aaron dipped his head. “I’m well. I come with news.”

“Oh, and I have me own. The archery committee has agreed to let McAlister Castle hold the tournament this year.”

“I see. Well then, it is fortuitous that I’ve arrived.”

Nylah’s heart pounded, an unexplainable nervousness gripping her tightly. “Oh. Then please share it.”

Aaron nodded, clearing his throat to speak. “I’ve heard that the war of Clan O’Duncan has ended. Yer husband should soon return to the castle and take up his place as Laird.”

Nylah struggled to contain her emotions, a mask of indifference slipping over her face. Conor Peterson had gone to war, fighting alongside Clan O’Duncan, nearly seconds after their wedding, and the duties of the entire castle had fallen on her shoulders. She’d been doing such for years, and she had stepped up to her responsibility during the rough transition, thanks in part to Aaron’s encouragement.

Aaron continued as Nylah fought against her own thoughts, “As such, Me Lady, the Laird may nae be keen on having the tournament on the ground. Though it’s hard to say for sure.”

Nylah swallowed hard. He couldn’t. Her husband simply could not take this away from her. Nylah had been a loyal member of the Archery Society for years and fought hard for the honor of hosting the competition.

But as dread crept up her spine, Nylah recalled the other times Aaron had heard that the war was ending. Each had been nothing but a rumor, and Nylah had gotten herself worked up over nothing. This would certainly be no different.

“I shall prepare for his arrival when I have more to go on than rumors. And, in any event, the competition would make for a fine celebration of the Laird’s return if the rumors do prove to be true. I’m sure he’d enjoy the sport after a long time away.”

“Me Lady, Nylah, are ye certain ye wish to move forward with it? Planning a large gathering may nae be the most desirable thing for a man who’s come back from war.”

“He won’t be tasked with any of the preparations. Sienna and I are more than capable of handling everything—as we’ve done for years.”

Nylah knew her tone was clipped short, but the fear of losing this burned too hard in her gut. Aaron’s face was still dressed in skepticism, and she sought to put his concerns at ease.

“Furthermore, didnae ye say that Conor’s faither was a marvelous lover of archery? This would be an excellent way to celebrate the previous Laird while welcoming the current one home.”

Aaron’s expression softened, and he gave Nylah a gentle smile as he nodded at her. She knew she had him at last with the promise of honoring his dear friend and previous master, Callan McAlister. It was a calculated move, as Nylah had learned much about Aaron’s admiration for the late Laird over the years.

As he had acted as Callan’s right hand, Aaron’s insights were invaluable, so keeping him close was essential. Moreover, Nylah had used his information about the clan’s ongoings to slowly shift how it operated. He’d known well of the subtle acts of favoritism and shuffling coins that Callan had been guilty of. Through his education, Nylah had largely redirected the clan’s focus.

“Aye. He was. Ye have a strong memory there, Me Lady. Should Laird Conor return, indeed, I’m sure he will find much entertainment at the tournament.”

“Thank ye, Aaron. I need to inform Sienna of the event and begin the planning. If ye’ll excuse me.”

“Of course, Me Lady.” Aaron bowed low, and Nylah returned to her hasty search for her sister-in-law.

* * *

When Nylah had informed Sienna about the competition, she was overjoyed, and the two of them took off into the castle, excitedly discussing the arrangements and preparations.

Throughout the day, Nylah spoke with Sienna about readying the grounds surrounding the castle for the archers.

“We’ll need to set up targets on a suitable patch of the land, and we’ll need enough food for such a large force of people.”

Sienna nodded. “Aye, of course. And ye’ll be wanting to send up word to the surrounding homes about our archery competition. We’ll need to move quickly.”

As the women passed several halls requiring heavy scrubbing before the event, Aaron’s words dogged Nylah’s steps.

“Sienna,” Nylah hesitated briefly, worried she would sour Conor’s return for his sister.

“What is it? Och, Nylah, ye know ye can trust me.”

“I’ve heard yer brother might be returning. Our Laird. It might be true this time after so many rumors. I just wonder if I’m ready. I’ve been acting as the head of this clan for so long. What if I cannae be the wife Conor requires?”

Nylah felt the joy she’d just been filled with over the competition fade.

Sienna smiled softly and wrapped her arm around Nylah’s shoulder. “It could very well be rumors. In which case, we’ll do as we’ve always done. But if the Laird is returning, how couldnae he love the wife that’s done so well by his clan all these long years?”

Nylah smiled, hugging Sienna with one hand as they walked down the halls.

“My brother’s as stubborn as a mule, and that’s unlikely to be changed by war. But ye’ll have me. I can help ye get through to him.”

“And I’m more than glad of that, Sienna. Ye’ve been a true friend all these long years.”

“Ye’re my sister, Nylah, and I love ye like my own blood.”

Eventually, the women found their way to dinner, and afterward, Sienna had taken her leave to go to bed. Still, Nylah chose to walk off her excitement by taking a final lap around the castle to start a mental tally of items that required changing within the walls.

As Nylah’s steps echoed through the quiet halls, her heart pinched at the thought of Conor’s return. She was so thrilled about the competition and wholly devoted to its reception. She’d been working toward it for months. But beyond that, Nylah had spent years working to create a strong, united clan.

If Conor returned, and the glimpse of a temper she had seen from him on the day of their wedding returned with him, she was looking at years of a marriage fraught with unhappiness and hostility. She’d done her duty to her family in accepting the proposal, and she would do it again. Still, the reality of the daily life that accompanied it was a cold one.

“Och, worrying will help me as much as winning a race in a rocking chair,” Nylah grumbled to herself.

The hour was late, and her bed was calling. Turning toward the curved hall stairs to retire, a commotion drew Nylah’s attention to the main doors. It was more than odd for a visitor to arrive so late into the evening, and Nylah rushed to the door, servants from the nearby halls joining her at the entrance.

But before she could direct someone to open the doors or do it herself, for that matter, they swung open. A troupe of Highland soldiers, their horses tarrying the courtyard, strode into the castle, and breaking out from within them stepped a tall, dark-haired man. The thick width of his shoulders was impressive, and hard-fought muscles stretched the stitching of his clothes. He was also wearing the tartan of the McAlister clan, and then it hit her.

“Conor?”

Activity erupted at the door as servants attended to the newly returned Laird and his men. As Nylah took in the sight of her husband so changed by war, she struggled to take full breaths. The look in his dark eyes beneath his strong brow was a familiar one, but there was a strangeness to this man who stood before her.

Against the odds, Nylah wondered if Conor had somehow grown taller. This new version of him was corded with muscle and healing injuries, a confident stride backing them both. Stranger still was the burn that swam up from deep within her as she studied his appearance. He had looked handsome on their wedding day, but the rugged allure of the war-hardened Laird filled Nylah with a desire that felt nearly sinful.

After tarrying in the entrance chamber, Conor stepped closer and finally made eye contact with Nylah. Something akin to a flame licked down Nylah’s spine as she both wanted to be free from his stare and to bask in it. Distracted as she was, Nylah didn’t realize that he had walked forward until he stood just before her.

Nylah’s eyes instinctively went to the floor, and then she felt the roughness of his fingers on her chin. Conor lifted her gaze back up, forcing their eyes to meet once more.

“Ye look healthy, wife. Strong and well. I’m glad.”

Her voice faltered as she attempted to speak, stolen perhaps by the fairies responsible for bringing her such a different husband. Finding herself by remembering the teachings of tradition, Nylah dipped low into a curtsey. As she straightened and looked into the depths of Conor’s dark stare, warmth flooded her.

“Welcome home, Me Laird. We’re all so happy to have ye back.”