Page 27 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

T he day dragged on terribly, with evening settling across the sky at seemingly a snail’s pace.

Arthur had destroyed a great number of practice dummies and given his men a number of bruises to look forward to the next day, but nothing could get rid of the sour knot in his stomach.

His anger was far easier to be rid of, lashing out during combat practice like tongues of fire amidst a raging inferno.

Now, his rage had cooled into a seething contempt; for clan MacCulloh, for the wars that ravaged the highlands and forced a destiny of early death upon him. Some was reserved for himself, still ruminating about the charade he’d put up for Olivia’s mother.

“What was I meant to say?” he grumbled, standing up from his desk as he stretched out his back.

“‘Aye, I never intended to marry yer daughter. Ye simply overheard me cowardly reason as to why that is’.” Arthur paused, surprised at the addition of ‘cowardly’.

It was hardly the coward’s destiny he shouldered–to willingly greet death each time he clashed with another clan was quite extraordinary.

At least, he was fairly certain it was. At some point, it had been.

“It cannae simply be an excuse, can it?” He shook his head, glancing down at the work he still had left to do.

The castle’s ledgers stood at the top of the pile of papers, cross-referenced with his own list of supplies he wanted to take to the ceilidh.

No; Arthur Ross, laird of MacDonnell, didn’t make excuses, nor was he a coward.

He was doing what was best for Olivia. He always had, since the moment he’d met her.

A knock on the door set Arthur on edge, and he exhaled sharply, forcing his clenched fists to loosen. Evidently, Olivia wasn’t the only one who had been affected by the false attack. “Come in.”

The door swung open, Nathan immediately crossing beneath the threshold.

He looked a bit more haggard than usual, the dirt of travel still fresh on his clothes and smeared across his sweat-soaked face.

If Arthur had to guess, the man had ridden nonstop to get to the MacCulloh’s keep, then turned around and done the same to get home.

A long parcel was tucked under his arm, but Arthur’s curiosity could wait.

“Well?”

Nathan caught a quick breath, offering a respectful nod before producing a small missive from beneath his cloak. “They agreed to speak about terms, though they deferred to ye when that may be.”

“It willnae be anytime soon.” Arthur took the note and tossed it across his desk, satisfied enough with his man-at-arm’s word.

“I’ll be going to Rosie’s ceilidh as soon as possible.

Olivia had a terrible scare today–she needs to be surrounded by allies, and I need to hear what the other lairds have to say about MacCulloh's future.”

“Would tonight be too inconvenient, m’laird?” Nathan asked.

Arthur’s brow furrowed, gaze flickering back to the parcel as a wry smile crossed his face. “Ye stopped in the village fer me?”

“It was on the way,” Nathan said.

It most certainly was not. “I appreciate it, Nathan.” Arthur rounded his desk, snatching his list and accepting the package from his man-at-arms. “Olivia deserves a good night’s sleep, but we can begin to pack.

Here,” he handed his man-at-arms the list, exchanging it for the package.

“Start with the kitchen; ensure we have enough inventory to comfortably take from. I’ll handle the armory and weapons, as well as the horses. There’s a pair I’ve got in mind.”

“Airgiod and òr?” Nathan guessed.

Arthur offered a smirk in return, the pair vanishing around the corner as they continued on with the preparations.

Olivia sank slightly beneath the bathwater, blowing bubbles out from her mouth from a gentle sigh.

It felt like she’d just finished running a dozen laps around the keep, her body aching with a fatigue she would have never imagined possible.

The warmth from the water was certainly helping, and as she tilted her head upright, her ears quickly filled, muffling any further outside noises.

A brush gently began to pull through her hair hanging over the tub’s rim, with a gentle tune being hummed by her mother. Olivia sat up slowly, pressing her back against it to make her mother’s task easier. “I appreciate ye staying with me, maither, but ye dinnae need to take it this far.”

“Nonsense, love,” her mother said. “You were shaking like a leaf trying to get outta bed; no maither in their right mind would leave their child alone after that.” She continued to brush Olivia’s hair out, the shark scent of lavender oil filling the room as her mother began massaging her scalp.

Oliva couldn’t help but let out a delighted sigh, her stiffened posture finally beginning to loosen up.

“Ye want me to braid it, a sheòid?” Her mother asked. “I cannae imagine how ye’ve handled this mane o’yers without me.”

Olivia giggles lightly, resting her hands along the sides of the tub. “Actually…Laird MacDonnell has quite a deft hand. He’s given me a few styles that may rival some o’yer own.”

Her mother gasped dramatically, causing Olivia’s giggling to bubble into laughter.

“Blasphemous child–I cannae believe ye replaced me so quickly!” She offered up a chuckle of her own, the pair enjoying the brief mirth shared between them.

But, after a moment, her laughter faded away, replaced with a far more somber tone. “Yeh’ve really taken to him, Olivia?”

“Aye.” Olivia’s gaze followed curls of steam floating off the water, relieved she no longer had to lie as much as she once had. After all…she had, indeed, fallen for that ridiculous man.

“I’m…glad to hear that.” Her mother tugged against her hair once more, beginning to weave a thick braid for Olivia to sleep in. “I shouldnae have acted as I did when I first arrived. Wounded ye like I had; ’twas nae right o’ me.”

Olivia craned her neck, partially-tied braid flopping against the water’s surface and sinking below.

“Ye would have been mad not to kick up a fuss! Finally seeing yer daughter after a sennight, and she’s draped in the arms of the enemy.

” She blew out a breath, a stray, still-dry hair floating briefly in the air above her.

“If it were me, I may have gone on a rampage.”

Another chuckle escaped her mother’s throat, and Olivia watched as her expression brightened somewhat.

“Aye–that sounds like something ye’d do.

” Her smile softened, a hand gently stroking Olivia’s cheek.

“Still…I shouldnae have left ye as I did. Yer a smart hen, Olivia, and I sometimes forget ye’re nae me wee bairn no more. ”

Olivia’s hand clasped over her mother’s, her own smile working its way across her face. “I’m just glad yer here. That ye trust Arthur like I do.” She paused, realizing that may not entirely be the case. “Ye…do trust him now, aye?”

Her mother’s eyes crinkled under her smile. “Ye really care so much fer him.”

She truly, sincerely did. That was the problem.

A gentle knock sounded from the main bedroom, and Olivia’s mother stood to investigate. Olivia moved to leave the bath, but her mother waved a hand, vanishing behind the archway as the door opened mere moments later. “Ah, Laird MacDonnell. Ye here to check on me daughter?”

The bath suddenly felt far too warm. Olivia fanned her flushing face, straining an ear to try and overhear the conversation.

“Ah, aye. She’s still soaking right now. Lovely selection of oils ye have, my Laird.”

A pause in dialogue, followed by frustratingly quiet murmuring.

“Ah! W-well, this is a lovely surprise–I’ll be sure to let her ken. Thank ye kindly.”

More murmuring. Olivia noted the sudden shift in her mother’s tone.

“Ah…yes, I suppose that would be for the best. A shame ye must go so soon, but…we’ve been apart this long. I can manage a few more days.”

Olivia’s heart hammered in her chest. What were they talking about?

“Aye, I do have yer family to keep me company this time. Yer maither in particular has my interest; that stitchwork she did on Olivia’s arisaid is wonderful.

I’m certain ye’ll come home to an empty stock and dozens o’tailored pieces.

” Warm laughter filled the air afterwards, setting Olivia a bit more at ease.

She sank back into the warm waters, bubbles blowing from her nose as she let out a long, tired sigh.

Part of her was glad he hadn’t tried to come in and see her.

The other part wished he had.

The sun itself wasn’t awake when Olivia was roused from sleep. Her mother offered a gentle smile and a soft kiss against her forehead, and the pair moved quietly around her room, packing any extra clothes or necessities for the up and coming journey.

Silence hung around the castle as Olivia stepped across, greeting the dim of the early morning with a tired yawn. Arthur waited patiently against the front door’s frame and, with a nod of greeting to both women, offered his hand towards his ‘betrothed’.

“Hopefully, ye slept better than I did,” he said, visibly fighting a yawn of his own.

“Did ye even sleep, m’laird?” Olivia asked, noting the heavy bags around his eyes.

There was a light note of teasing in her tone, though last night’s discussion still lingered heavily between the pair.

At the very least, it seemed to still be on Arthur’s mind, as his entire being seemed somewhat off that morning.

The trio worked their way through the keep, windowsills unlit and the air still around them.

Upon reaching the main gates, the immediate family of the MacDonnell clan stood by to send the pair off, accompanied by Airgiod and òr fully saddled and packed with the proper provisions.

Maesie stood patiently in front of the horses, a younger pup by her side that seemed ready to burst from all the waiting.

Their tail wagged excitedly, though they settled at a warning growl from Maesie.

Olivia pulled her mother in for one last embrace, letting it linger for a bit longer than she probably should have. “I’ll be back soon, maither.”

“I ken ye will,” her mother said, giving Olivia’s cheek a quick peck while adjusting her daughter’s arisaid slightly.

“And while ye’re gone, I’ll make sure to keep yer maither busy,” Elspeth beamed. “We’ve got a lot of wedding plans to discuss, and I have to ken how the pair o’ ye made such a lovely arisaid!”

Olivia watched her mother grow bashful, stepping into the crowd as Elspeth offered a comforting arm around her shoulder.

The pair whispered something between each other (likely sewing tricks or wedding ideas), and she turned her attention to Flora, next.

“I’m sad ye willnae be coming with me. There’s so many folk I willnae ken, and–and are ye sure it’s alright fer Maesie to come with me? ”

“I insist she does,” Flora said, slipping her hand into Nathan’s with a playful smirk. “I have me own guard dog to protect me while ye’re gone. Plus, she’ll be another familiar face fer ye to lean on. ‘Twould put me at ease to ken she’s at yer side.”

She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but Olivia was grateful for the deerhound’s company.

“Make sure we have a few warriors patrolling close to the MacCulloh’s boarder,” Arthur instructed. “I daenae need them getting any ideas while I’m away.”

Nathan nodded curtly.

“I’ll be sending a man ahead of us once I finish discussing wit the other lairds. Keep an eye out fer them; they shouldnae arrive any later than a sennight.”

Again, Nathan nodded. “When should we expect yer return?”

“No longer than a fortnight,” Arthur said. “Though it’ll ultimately be up to Olivia to decide if we leave earlier.”

Up to her? Olivia hadn’t been told such a thing, though she appreciated the gesture. She offered Arthur a soft smile, and he gave her a subtle nod in return.

“Daenae worry about any wedding preparations,” Elspeth insisted. “Just have a good time!”

“Tell Rosie I miss her,” Flora added. “And I’ll make sure to visit soon.”

Arthur’s family continued to offer their good wishes as he started for their horses. He offered a hand Olivia’s way, helping her up onto Airgiod’s saddle while he went for òr. “Ye ready fer this selkie?”

She wasn’t entirely certain, but Olivia nodded regardless.