Page 12 of Highlander’s Wild Lass (Wild McLeans #1)

11

“S hould ye really be dancin’ with me?”

Anthony frowned. “What do ye mean, lass?”

“I’ve yet to see the ritual sacrifice, or the herds be paraded through the twin fires,” she said, gripping his hand tighter as he lifted her up and spun her.

“Ye must have come late. The parade happened around noon and the herdsman brought them back to their farms. They begged for an earlier parade after last year. Half of them nearly led their folk into the fire due to drink.”

Celestia let out a delicious little laugh. “I do remember that. Someone’s hair caught fire, right?”

Anthony nodded solemnly. “James FitzMichael. The hair never grew back in that spot.”

Celestia clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Shame.”

“A damn shame,” he said with a laugh.

The music slowed and he felt Celestia dropping his hand. He didn’t want to part from her just yet. “Will ye get a drink with me?” he said in a rush.

Celestia nodded and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to the casks.

“Whisky or mead?”

“Mead, please. I’ve been samplin’ far too much of whisky in the last weeks, I’m sick of it.”

“A Scotswoman sick of the whisky?” Anthony said, filling two tankards with mead. “That’s some sort of sin.”

She took the tankard, throwing him a sarcastic look. “Let the devil take me, then.”

He looked around, seeing his clan enjoying themselves. A few more dancers had joined in when the bagpipes began playing again, and a few games of cards were happening near the tables. The smells of food and firewood wafted through the air, and all he wanted to do was be alone with Celestia.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand once more. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”

“Nae too far,” she said, as they walked further away from the festival. “We daenae want to be caught on our own.”

“Yer reputation cannae be ruined if yer already betrothed to the man yer alone with.”

“We havenae announced anythin’,” Celestia said as they came to the collection of empty mead barrels and whisky casks. “Have ye had much to drink, Anthony?”

“Aye, I have,” he told her, lifting her up and setting her down on one of the barrels, mindful of where he put his hands, although wishing he didn’t have to be. “It’s a holiday after all.”

“It is a holiday,” she echoed, the smile returning to her face and lighting her features. The light from the twin fires still glowed from this distance and it reflected in her eyes, sending chills through his body. It reminded him of how she looked, laying on the floor of his study in front of his fireplace.

“Anthony?”

He blinked and focused on her. “Aye?”

She held her tankard with both hands in her lap, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and said, “I want to apologize for how I treated ye when we were younger. When ye first tried to court me.”

Anthony almost didn’t believe he heard her correctly, but the guilt on her face was enough. “Please daenae, there’s nay need. I was a determined fool back then.”

She laughed heartily. “And ye are nae now? Askin’ me to wed ye at least a handful of times nearly out of the blue.”

“Och, it wasnae out of the blue, lass.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Well,” he said, knowing the drink was helping him along. “I’ve always felt… somethin’ for ye, but I learned to keep my distance.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to, trust me, but I thought it better that way.”

He moved so that he was leaning against the barrel she sat on, not wanting to be far from her. The warmth from the mixture of whisky and mead made his arms feel wobbly and all he could think about was reaching out and touching her.

“Are ye ready to be Lady of Castle Ferguson?”

“Nae at all, to be honest. I was a bit out of my mind when I came sprintin’ into your study last night,” she told him with a small grin.

“Do ye nae want to get married then?” he asked, his heart banging against his chest. “It’s all—”

She placed a hand on his forearm. “Nay, Anthony. I meant what I said last night, but a merchant’s daughter marryin’ a chief. How odd.”

“I am nae royalty, Celestia,” he said, smiling down at his mead. “I am nay king or even a viscount.”

“Ye are still a noble—”

“Anthony! There ye are!”

Anthony groaned, closing his eyes. He knew it was Eleanor before he even turned to look. She was followed closely by two of their uncles. Uncle Ian and Charlie were their father’s younger brothers and known menaces.

“Oh, lass,” he said, turning to Celestia. The look of alarm was plain on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she said, brows furrowing.

“Ye fiend!” Uncle Charlie shouted as he spilled the contents of his tankard onto the grass.

Anthony grabbed onto Celestia’s wrists. “I’m so sorry for whatever is about to happen. My uncles they are—I ken ye wanted to tell yer family first, but—”

“But what—”

“Looks like our nephew found himself a bonnie lass,” Uncle Charlie said, stopping before Anthony and Celestia.

“A very bonnie lass, Charlie,” Ian said, tracking his eyes from the top of Celestia down to her booted feet.

Anthony felt a pain in his jaw then, not realizing how tightly he was clenching his teeth together. Uncle Ian was a known womanizer—unmarried and a sire to several bastards—and never hid how pleasurable he found a woman.

“Have ye done it then?” Eleanor asked him, hands on her hips. Anthony could tell she was sober but his uncles who arrived this morning with a drink in their hands were not.

“Done what?” Ian asked, eyes unabashedly lingering on Celestia’s exposed collarbone. Anthony moved in front of Celestia.

“Eleanor,” Anthony warned, abandoning his drink on the top of a barrel. “I will speak of this with ye later.”

Charlie grabbed hold of his shoulder and shook it. “Come now, lad. We’re all family. What do ye have to say?”

Anthony looked back at Celestia, who had the most bewildered look on her face.

Eleanor pushed passed Ian and Charlie who had closed in on Anthony. “My god, leave him be,” she told them firmly. “There is nothin’ to be worryin’ about—let the young couple be.”

“Eleanor!” Anthony yelled and Eleanor clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh!” Ian shouted merrily. “Young couple, are they?”

“Did he ask ye for yer hand, lass?” Charlie asked fervently, taking a step toward Celestia. He was a known romantic, the story of how he fell in love had become near legend in the Highlands. “Or is he just tryin’ to get ye to lay with him?”

“Daeane be crass, uncle!” Anthony exclaimed in a deep, firm voice. “I have asked her.”

“What was yer answer, lass?” Charlie asked, eyes glistening.

“I said I would,” Celestia said over Anthony’s shoulder.

Anthony grumbled, wishing he could throw Eleanor into the loch and drown his uncles for good measure. “We havenae announced anythin’ yet, and we dinnae plan to until—”

“Nonsense, lad!” Charlie exclaimed. “Why would ye want to keep this a secret? This is a triumph.”

“What better night than Beltane to announce the betrothal?” Ian wondered aloud, eyeing both Anthony and Celestia. “Ye ken how good tonight is for blessin’s and handfastin’s—ye’ll be blessed with an army of children if ye pass through the twin fires.”

Anthony folded his arms across his chest. “I daenae believe in the old legends.”

“Well, I do, lad. Yer faither did.”

“It is nae yer betrothal to be announcin’,” Anthony told him, clenching his jaw. He looked at Eleanor who still wore the horrified expression from earlier.

* * *

Anthony’s uncles were drunk, she could smell the whisky coming from them as they stumbled between where she sat and where Anthony stood.

“I’m sure the lass would love a big gesture like announcin’ yer betrothal at the Beltane festival,” Charlie said, looking at her. “Would ye nae, lass?”

“I have a name, ye ken,” Celestia said resolutely. These two middle-aged men were making fools of themselves and Eleanor, ever the meddler, was doing nothing to stop them.

Charlie and Ian erupted into laughter.

“What is yer name then?” Ian asked.

“Celestia McLean.”

“Oh, Brannan’s daughter?” Charlie wondered.

Puzzled that he knew her father, she nodded.

“So, yer the one takin’ over?” he asked again.

“I am.”

“I got yer letter the other day. It would be a pleasure to continue doin’ business with the finest Highland whisky maker.”

Celestia allowed herself a smile.

“Aye,” Charlie said. “Just as amazin’ as the news my nephew is goin’ to marry ye.”

“Enough of this,” Ian barked over them, placing his drink down. “Let’s announce this and give the clan somethin’ to really celebrate.”

“Uncle, I daenae want ye to be doin’ this,” Anthony protested. “Celestia wants to tell her family first.”

“Then what better way to do that than by tellin’ the entire clan,” Ian said, grabbing hold of his arm. Charlie reflexively grabbed up the other one.

Celestia watched Anthony struggle with his uncles, trying to loosen their hold on him.

“She will be leadin’ the clan with ye, will she nae? The entire clan is family,” Ian said as they pulled him toward the small platform that had been set up for today.

Eleanor turned sheepishly to Celestia, a look that rarely graced her face when they were younger. “Celestia, I dinnae mean to say anythin’ out loud. I had nay idea, he only mentioned he had asked ye.”

Celestia hopped down from the barrel and followed Anthony and his uncles. “Ye dinnae ken, it’s fine.”

She walked with Eleanor as they approached the platform. Anthony was struggling, cursing, and pleading the entire way with Charlie and Ian.

“They’re a bit much, are they nae?” Celestia asked Eleanor in a hushed voice.

Eleanor laughed lightly. “They’ve always been like that. My maither couldnae stand them for long.”

“I daenae blame her,” Celestia said, watching his uncles straining to pull Anthony up the wooden stairs. “At least they cannae always be this drunk.”

“Oh,” Eleanor said seriously. “I assure ye that they can.” She picked up her skirts and followed them up the stairs to the platform.

“Listen to me,” Anthony said through his teeth. He was seething. “We announce that we’re to wed, but that’s it. No sneaky handfastin’ ceremony or I’ll have both yer throats slit.”

“I wouldnae dream of disobeyin’ my chief,” Ian said.

Charlie had let go of Anthony to jump off the platform, coming back with a horn player.

“Somethin’ high-pitched to get everyone’s attention,” Charlie ordered, situating the player in the corner.

The young man nodded and brought the horn to his pursed lips.

“Wait,” Anthony said, face red from struggling to free himself and from sheer anger. Both of his uncles and the horn player looked at him. “I need ye to swear to me this is only an announcement and nothin’ else. Swear on yer children.”

Celestia would’ve been impressed if she wasn’t mortified that she was about to be presented to the entire clan.

“Aye, I swear on my children. Good Christ, Anthony. We’re nae goin’ to sacrifice ye—we arenae that deep in our cups—we only want to announce that ye have finally decided to wed,” Ian told him. “Yer parents would be proud of the lass ye’ve chosen.”

She was pleased with the compliment, but this seemed to be going nowhere. The uncles were too drunk, Anthony was too angry, and Eleanor was too silent.

“I’ll be an old maid by the time ye finally announce it,” Celestia blurted, stepping up to Anthony and wrenching Ian’s hand away from him. “Sir,” she said, tipping her head to the horn player. “Play on.”

The horn was once again brought to his lips. Celestia’s ears nearly burst from the high-pitched noise that blared from the horn.

Anthony leaned in toward her and took hold of her hand. “I’m sorry about this, Celestia,” he said, voice soft but laced with frustration. “I ken as soon as they laid eyes on us somethin’ like this would happen.”

“It’s fine, Anthony. I’m sure my brothers and sister will be thrilled with the fanfare,” she told him, squeezing his hand. “My faither is home, anyway.”

As the horn wailed out its final tune, the crowd and the music fell silent. All eyes were trained on the platform that was illuminated by four torches at each of its corners.

Celestia’s hands and legs were shaking. The damned torches were causing sweat to break out on her forehead. She exhaled deeply as Anthony’s uncles stepped to the front of the platform.

“Yer attention please!” Charlie said unnecessarily, raising his arms into the air. Celestia couldn’t see his face, but it sounded like he was smiling.

Ian stepped up next to him, clapping his arm on his brother’s wide back. “We hope ye have all been havin’ a grand time.”

The clan erupted into loud cheers, and many of them thrust their drinks into the air. Celestia looked around the crowd, trying to find her family in the dim light. But the shadows the bonfires were throwing made everyone look too similar.

Ian waved his hands for everyone to quiet down once more. “We have an announcement to make, and it’s been a long time comin’.”

“Truly,” Charlie spoke, more to the crowd than to Ian. “We never thought this day would come.”

Some of the crowd laughed, not knowing what they were even laughing about. Others stayed silent, looking expectantly up at the men.

Anthony grumbled beside her, staring daggers into the back of their heads. “I am goin’ to murder them.”

Celestia sighed. “I’ll help ye do it.”

He squeezed her hand and a corner of his mouth turned up.

“It is our great pleasure to announce our nephew, our chief, Anthony Moore has finally decided to marry!” Charlie shouted toward the crowd.

“Please welcome the betrothed couple: Chief Moore and Miss Celestia McLean.”

Ian and Charlie parted to the side to allow Celestia and Anthony to step forward. Anthony rolled his shoulders and straightened his back, standing tall before taking a step.

Celestia stepped with him, and in two strides they were at the front of the platform overcome with raucous cheers and yells from the clansmen and women. The cheers lasted for minutes. The men were holding women and children on their backs and shoulders.

Everyone looked elated, she just wished she could catch a glimpse of her siblings. And that’s when she saw them, on the edge of the crowd, jumping up and down on one of the wooden tables.

Chester had his fingers in his mouth, whistling. Auralia was jumping so much that the flower wreath on her head was bobbing up and down, and Hugo’s hands were cupped around his mouth, screaming himself hoarse.

Celestia smiled. Maybe this entire charade of a marriage was going to work out.