Page 58 of To Love a Scottish Lord (Highland Lords #4)

T hree massive crystal chandeliers imported from France illuminated Gilmuir’s clans hall.

Cunning lanterns in the embrasures banished the shroud of shadows from the corners.

The walls, painted a pale yellow, seemed to reflect the light, and acted as a perfect foil for the multicolored banners draped from the ceiling.

The table was long and wide, stretching the length of the room. What space wasn’t occupied by platters of food was taken up with crystal, silver, and more candles. The guests sat on chairs with high backs, richly upholstered in tapestry.

Mary’s past merged with her present in an odd way.

Only Alisdair and Iseabal knew that the silver goblets they used came from Inverness, or that Gordon had fashioned them.

Mary had seen them before, having marveled at Gordon’s artistry as he’d packed a dozen of them in their specially designed wooden case.

Each chalice was seven inches tall and set with a leopard agate in the stem.

Around the top was an ornate design of thistle and heather blossoms. Three main panels depicted scenes no doubt from the MacRaes’ history: a tonsured monk painting on the wall of a cave, a woman bent over the neck of a horse clearing a hedge, a ship in full sail.

The room was filled with conversation. Occasionally, someone would exclaim aloud, or a burst of laughter would erupt from the end of the table.

Mary’s silence wasn’t because of the splendor of her surroundings. Her own home in Inverness had been filled with treasures. If anything kept her mute, it was the fascination with which she viewed her new in-laws.

She’d never met anyone like the MacRaes.

Ian was tall and broad shouldered, his temples rendered silver with age.

His face was lined, true, but other than that, he appeared as youthful as his sons.

Leitis, the matriarch of the clan, had more wrinkles, and she hesitated somewhat in rising and walking, but she had a youthful laugh.

Her surprising blue eyes, young and now lit with laughter, were replicated in the faces of her two older sons.

It was their nature, however, that Mary marveled at more than their appearance. From the moment they’d met, Leitis had enfolded Mary in her arms. Ian had done so as well, welcoming her to the family.

Then there was Alisdair, who had rebuilt Gilmuir but insisted on sharing the praise with his wife, Iseabal.

“She’s the one who saw Gilmuir finished,” he said, smiling at her down the length of the table. “My only discontent with her is that she insists upon sculpting my face from time to time. There are better subjects for her talent.”

“I concur,” James said, raising his goblet. He and his wife, Riona, had arrived only an hour earlier.

The remaining MacRae was as different from Hamish as her husband was from Alisdair.

Douglas had the curi ous aloofness she’d noted in Hamish upon first meeting him, and she wondered if it were caused by the same type of deep emotion.

He’d met her eyes twice during the dinner, and twice looked away.

Yet when addressed, he answered quickly enough, and his smile was often in place.

Nevertheless, Mary had the thought that he was far from there.

Not at Gilmuir at all, but some other location.

A loud banging on the massive oak and iron-banded door interrupted what Leitis was saying.

Alisdair stood, excusing himself, a grin on his face.

“He looks very pleased,” Mary said, watching him.

Hamish turned and smiled at her. “He has a surprise for our mother.”

A moment later, a giant of a man with bright red hair and a large grin entered the great hall in a limping gait. Leitis stood and stared at him, fisting her hands in her skirt. Mary couldn’t decide who was the more fascinating to watch, Leitis, the stranger, or the rest of the MacRaes.

“Well, sister,” he roared, “it’s not a ghost you’re looking at. Have you no greeting?”

Leitis began to smile, crossing the room to be enfolded in a bear hug. The two clung to each other as the rest of the MacRaes watched.

“It’s her brother, Fergus,” Hamish explained. “They haven’t seen each other for over thirty years. Until Alisdair came back to Scotland, neither knew the other was alive.”

There were more introductions as Fergus brought his wife forward. Mary learned that they had been sweethearts as young people but had not been reunited until a few years ago. There was also a bond of kinship; the woman she met was Iseabal’s mother.

Room was made for them easily at the table. Aislin and Robbie had been put to bed hours ago, but Riona’s baby was passed around to be greeted and kissed. As she watched them, Mary could feel herself becoming part of a large and warm family.

Gilmuir was as wondrous a place as she’d always heard, but not simply because of its magnificent architecture. The MacRaes lent it life.

“You must tell me how Hamish truly is,” Leitis said, interrupting her reverie. She spoke under cover of another burst of laughter. “You know men; they rarely tell the truth if they think it might upset us.”

Mary nodded, understanding only too well.

“He’s better now than he was,” she admitted.

“There’s some movement in his fingers, and it’s my hope that he regains the use of his arm.

But it will take time, I’m afraid.” She couldn’t wait to try the electrical machine on his arm.

All she had to do was convince Hamish. He’d looked decidedly unenthusiastic from the moment he’d unveiled Mr. Marshall’s surprise gift.

“And you,” Leitis said, patting her on the wrist. “I suspect you have a great deal to do with it.”

Hamish was seated on the other side of her.

Every few moments, he’d glance in her direction as if he weren’t quite sure she was real.

These hours at Gilmuir felt like time in an imaginary land.

Hamish was laughing, sharing memories with his family.

She was welcomed as she’d never thought to be.

The verdict two days ago seemed very far away as was the realization that she could never return to Inverness again.

Or remain in Scotland.

She exchanged a look with Hamish and forced a smile to her face, determined to forget for a while at least.

Leitis was given the baby once again, and she cradled the infant in her arms. Ian leaned over and smoothed his finger across his wife’s cheek.

“If you continue to cry on them,” he said, “they’ll forever think of you as their weeping grandmother.”

“I can’t help it,” Leitis said. “Babies make me cry.” She smiled down at James’s son, born last August. “We’re soon to have another grandchild as well,” she said softly.

Douglas abruptly stood and left the room.

Riona only laughed when James looked at her.

Iseabal held up both hands when Alisdair’s interested gaze fell on her. “I’ve no news to tell you,” she said. “I swear.”

Hamish sent an even more inquiring look at Mary. She smiled and shook her head.

“Douglas is the father,” Leitis said.

“Douglas?” Each of the MacRae sons intoned their youngest brother’s name in shock.

Hamish set down his goblet and stared at his father. The older man was nodding soberly, and didn’t look at all pleased.

“He’s too young to be married,” Hamish said.

“On that, I agree,” his father said. “But it hasn’t stopped him from becoming a father.”

“What about the girl?”

“Won’t have a thing to do with him,” his mother said.

“She’s some damn count’s daughter,” Ian said tightly, “with an inflated view of herself, evidently. Sort of a noblesse oblige attitude the French are so famous for.”

Hamish sat back in his chair. “This just keeps getting worse. She’s French?”

Alisdair sent him an amused look. “At least she’s not English.”

“She’s taken herself off, and the count refuses to tell us where she is. We don’t know what’s to become of the child.”

There was only silence as they all looked at one another. An unwanted child could easily disappear.

Another clanging sound from the door knocker made Alisdair stand. He left the room to return a few minutes later, Brendan at his side looking worn and tired. After being greeted by his parents, he pulled away and nodded at Hamish and Mary.

“Now are you going to tell me what secrets you’re hiding?” Ian looked at his sons, and then Mary.

At their silence, he stared at Hamish. “Well?”

Hamish smiled and reached for Mary’s hand. “What makes you think we’re hiding anything?”

Ian gave an exasperated sigh and looked at Leitis. “Your son seems to think I’ve no sense at all.”

Hamish smiled, and reached for Mary’s hand. “It isn’t my tale,” he said, “but Mary’s.”

For a moment, she didn’t want to say anything. Doing so would jeopardize her new standing in this family. They’d welcomed her without reservation. The story might cause them to as easily repudiate her. Who, after all, would want a murderess in their midst? Even an accidental one?

She glanced at Hamish. He nodded once, smiling, and she realized it didn’t matter what anyone but Hamish thought of her. She told them everything, omitting only her time with Hamish at Castle Gloom. Those memories were for them alone, and didn’t warrant the scrutiny of others.

She didn’t know what she expected of the MacRaes, but each of them only nodded when she finished.

“I’ve had a taste of justice,” Alisdair said, “when I first came back to Scotland. Magnus Drummond owned MacRae land, and threatened me with the courts. I doubt I would have been able to get my rightful land back. They dispensed an English kind of justice.”

Hamish made room for Brendan to sit beside him. “The Grants and Mr. Marshall? Are they safe?”

Brendan nodded. “Mr. Marshall is on his way to London, and the Grants haven’t been implicated in Mary’s disappearance. What about your plans? Does Alisdair have a ship?”

Hamish and Alisdair exchanged a glance. “The new ship won’t be ready for months,” Alisdair said.

“All the better,” Brendan said. “I’ve one you can use.”