Page 12 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow
CHAPTER TEN
T he door closed behind Ruaridh with more force than necessary, and Iona winced at the sound. Something she'd said had displeased him—she'd heard it in the roughness of his voice when he'd promised to find her something to do.
He thinks I'm ungrateful. Here he is, keeping me safe, and all I dae is complain about having naething tae occupy me time.
She was still berating herself when a soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," she called, expecting one of the servants with water for washing.
Instead, Alba entered with her usual bright smile, though today she seemed particularly pleased about something. "Me lady, Lady Niamh has sent me tae fetch ye. She's hoping ye might assist her with some preparations in the storeroom."
Iona looked up from her seat by the window, surprised. "She... she asked fer me specifically?"
"Aye, me lady. Said she could use yer help with the summer solstice planning." Alba's eyes sparkled with something that might have been knowing amusement. "Seemed quite eager tae have yer input, if ye dinnae mind me saying so."
Relief flooded through Iona so suddenly it nearly brought tears to her eyes. After the morning's conversation with Ruaridh, after feeling so utterly useless, here was someone actually requesting her help.
"Of course," she said, rising quickly. "I'd be honored tae assist her."
"Wonderful! She's in the main storeroom, checking supplies." Alba paused at the door, her expression growing thoughtful. "If ye dinnae mind me saying, me lady, it daes me heart good tae see ye settling in. The young master seems... lighter somehow, since ye arrived."
The comment sent warmth through Iona's chest, though she wasn’t certain she deserved such credit. "Thank ye, Alba. That's kind of ye tae say."
As they made their way through the castle corridors, Iona found herself wondering what had prompted Niamh's sudden request for help. Not that it mattered—she was simply grateful to have something meaningful to do.
They found Niamh in the castle's main storeroom, surrounded by sacks of grain and barrels of ale. Her sleeves were rolled up, and there was a smudge of flour on her cheek, but she looked utterly in her element.
"Iona!" Niamh's face lit up when she spotted her. "Thank ye fer coming so quickly. I was just thinking how much I could use a fresh perspective on these preparations."
"I'm happy tae help," Iona said, meaning every word. "What would ye like me tae dae?"
"Well," Niamh said, glancing around the organized chaos of supplies, "me son mentioned this morning that were feeling a bit... underutilized. He suggested I might benefit from yer assistance with the festival planning."
Iona's breath caught. "Ruaridh... he asked ye tae include me?"
"Aye, and I was grateful fer the reminder. I've been so caught up in managing everything meself, I forgot how much I could use another pair of capable hands." Niamh's smile was warm and genuine. "Especially hands belonging tae someone who'll soon be taking over these responsibilities herself."
But even as she spoke, her mind was racing. This morning she'd poured out her frustrations to Ruaridh about feeling useless, about having no purpose beyond being his unwanted wife. And now, mere hours later, his mother was requesting her help with something important?
He actually listen tae what I was saying…
The thought sent an unexpected flutter through her chest. She'd assumed her complaints had fallen on deaf ears, that he'd dismissed her concerns as feminine foolishness. But if he'd gone to his mother, asked her to find meaningful work for his wife...
Could he truly care about me and what I feel? Or am I reading too much intae what might be simple coincidence?
She studied Niamh's face, looking for any sign that it was not genuine need. But the older woman's expression showed nothing but warm welcome and the harried look of someone with too much to accomplish in too little time.
For the next several hours, they worked side by side, planning menus and checking supplies. Niamh asked for her opinion on everything from the arrangement of tables in the great hall to the selection of musicians for the dancing.
"What dae ye think about having the children perform first?" Niamh asked, consulting a list written in her neat hand. "They've been practicing a song about the clan's founding."
"That sounds wonderful," Iona replied, surprising herself with how easily the words came. "It would honor our history while including the youngest members of the clan."
"Exactly what I was thinking." Niamh made a note on her parchment. "And fer the feast itself—should we serve the lamb with rosemary or thyme?"
"Both," Iona suggested. "One for each course. It would show the abundance of the season."
"Clever girl." Niamh smiled approvingly. "Me son made a wise choice tae marry ye."
As they worked, servants came and went, each seeking Niamh's guidance on various matters. But instead of dismissing Iona's presence, Niamh included her in every decision, asking her thoughts and treating her suggestions with genuine consideration.
"The banner fer the hall entrance," one servant asked. "Should it be the formal clan colors or something more festive?"
"What dae ye think, Iona?" Niamh asked. "Ye have an eye fer these things."
"Perhaps both?" Iona suggested. "The formal banner as the centerpiece, but with festive ribbons woven through it? It would honor tradition while celebrating the joy of the season."
"Perfect," Lady Niamh responded. "Dae as she says."
The servant said, bowing. "I'll see tae it immediately, me lady." The servant turned to Iona and bowed, "Me lady," before leaving the room.
Me lady. The title sent a warm flutter through Iona's chest.
"Ye have good instincts," Niamh said as they reviewed the final arrangements. "The clan will be lucky tae have ye as their lady."
"I hope I can be half as good at it as ye've been," Iona said sincerely.
"Ye'll be better," Niamh replied with a smile. "Because ye'll bring yer own strengths tae the role. That's what makes a truly great lady—not copying what came before but making it one’s own."
As the afternoon wore on, Iona found herself smiling more than she had in days. Her opinions mattered. Her ideas were valued. For the first time since her wedding, she felt like she was contributing something meaningful to her new home.
This is what I was missing. Nae just tasks tae fill me time, but purpose. A way tae serve the clan that's taken me in.
That evening, Iona could barely contain her excitement as she prepared for bed. The moment Ruaridh entered their chamber, words began tumbling from her lips.
"Ye wouldnae believe how much there is tae organizing a proper celebration," she said, brushing her hair with quick, animated strokes.
"Yer maither has been planning this fer weeks—the musicians alone required three separate arrangements, and then there's the matter of seating, as the MacLeods and the Campbells cannae sit too close together after some dispute about cattle last spring. "
She turned from the mirror, gesturing with her brush.
"And the food! I never realized how much thought goes into a feast menu.
It's nae just about what tastes good—ye have tae consider what's available, what stores well, what the children will eat, what shows proper respect tae visiting dignitaries. .."
"Breathe, lass," Ruaridh muttered, settling onto his sleeping mat.
But Iona was too caught up in her enthusiasm to slow down. "Oh, and I learned the most fascinating thing about the summer solstice traditions! Did ye ken that the original celebration involved?—"
She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly aware that Ruaridh's green eyes were crinkling at the corners in a way that made him look even younger than he was.
"What?" she demanded, blushing.
"Nothing," he said, his expression turning carefully neutral once again. "It's just... ... ye remind me of someone I used tae ken."
There she was, chattering like a magpie when he'd probably had a long, difficult day dealing with clan business. Or was he teasing her? She grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and hurled it at him.
"Dinnae mock me!"
He caught the pillow easily, without looking her way. "I'm nae mocking ye, lass, I'm?—"
But his words were cut off as her eyes went wide with horror at what she'd just done. She'd thrown something at her husband. At the future laird of Clan MacDuff. What was wrong with her?
Ruaridh seemed to understand her mortification immediately. Instead of scolding her, he simply doubled it up with his own pillow behind his head and settled back more comfortably on his mat.
"Thank ye," he said. There was some amusement in his tone and for a moment, she had thought she'd glimpsed the boy he'd been.
But then his walls slammed back into place, and his expression shuttered.
"That's much better. I'm glad me maither found ye useful work.
" He turned his back to her, and he added, "And once we secure the borders against MacNab, the clan should enjoy relative peace.
Ye'll have plenty of time tae put yer own mark on our traditions. "
The mention of Murray brought her tumbling down to earth, draining all the joy from the evening in an instant.
Peace. He thought they could have peace once they had dealt with Murray's immediate threat.
But he didn't understand—Murray would never stop.
Not until he'd permanently silenced her, destroyed anyone who knew his secrets.
There would be no peace. Not ever.
"Iona?" Ruaridh's voice carried concern now. "What's wrong? Ye've gone pale."
She turned away from him, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. "Naething. I'm just... tired. It's been a long day."
"But ye were just?—"
"Goodnight, Ruaridh." The words came out sharp, but she couldn't help it. The weight of her deception, of the danger she'd brought to his clan, pressed down on her like a stone.