Page 37 of Wed to the Highlander (Impromptu Brides #2)
An outdoor celebration in the Highlands always brought with it the risk of rain.
But the day had dawned clear, and the April day was warm and pleasant.
Maggie moved through the crowd, playing hostess.
Duncan was likable and respected, and kinsmen, friends, and business associates had come from across the Highlands.
Some brought brightly wrapped gifts and bottles of locally distilled whiskey or imported wine.
The residents of Kilbrae and other nearby villages arrived with baskets of sweet breads and bannocks.
Mrs. Craig had outdone herself. Tables set up beneath an awning were laden with smoked trout and slow-roasted venison, oat and potato cakes with fresh churned butter and crowdie cheese, three types of fruit pies, and the laird’s favorite, spiced cake with currants and caraway seeds.
And, of course, it wouldn’t be a celebration if the ale didn’t flow freely.
The mood was festive, and the fiddlers’ lively tunes spurred folks to dance.
The reason for the day wasn’t just Duncan’s birthday; it was the day the terms of Angus’ bequest were fulfilled. The day the MacPhersons could finally breathe easy again.
For nearly two years, the estate had strained under debt and doubt. But now, with the inheritance secured, the clan gathered not in mourning or worry—but in celebration.
Fiddlers played reels while the younger folks kicked off their shoes to dance barefoot on the grass. As the day wore on, a few older gentlemen brought out their pipes. Even MacLeish cracked a smile.
As the sun dipped low and the crowd thinned, Duncan managed to break free of well-wishers to claim Maggie for a dance. She swayed in his arms, her cheeks and nose stinging a bit from too much sun, tired but glad for the success of the day.
“’Twas a fine celebration, lass. Thank you,” he said, eyes alight from the merriment and whiskey too.
“You’re most welcome,” she said, smiling warmly. “You’re thirty now. How does it feel?”
“No’ much different than twenty-nine,” he admitted.
“What would your great-grandfather have to say about all of this?”
“I never met the old curmudgeon, but from the tales I’ve been told, he probably laughed as he looked down on me twisting myself into knots getting tae this day. Now that it’s here and the game is done, he’s cursing that his fun is over.”
Maggie wrinkled her nose at her life being a game. “Can’t say that I’m sorry I didn’t have the pleasure.”
“Neither can I.”
The dance ended, and the last of the guests headed for the gate. She and Duncan waved them off then, arm-in-arm, climbed the front stairs.
“It’s been a long day. Shall we go up and say good night tae our lad?” he asked.
“Lillie put him to bed an hour ago. With the gates flung wide and so many milling about, Callum went with her to stand guard.” The clan had adopted their darling little boy as their own. “He’ll be demanding my attention soon enough. Until then, I have one more celebration planned.”
“Do you now,” he said, green eyes twinkling. “Care to share?”
“No. I care to escape—with you.” With a mischievous grin, she led him by the hand, not up the main staircase but deeper into the castle.
***
The moon hung low over the east tower, casting the couple entwined on the bed in silver.
Maggie gasped, arching beneath Duncan’s weight. He caught the sound with his mouth, swallowing it as she trembled against him. Her fingers clutched his shoulders, nails biting through linen. He didn’t stop until she stilled, breathless with release.
He kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “You’re spirited tonight,” he murmured.
She smiled, lazy and sated. “Because you’re quite skilled at this.” Suddenly, she tensed with concern. “Do you suppose anyone heard?”
“If they heard wailing, they’ll chalk it up to the spirits of Castle MacPherson.”
Maggie shoved his shoulder. “Countesses do not wail; they sigh like a lady.”
He chuckled, shifting to lie beside her, their legs tangled. “This lady will have to bury her sighs into a pillow next time, or the guard may come running and put an untimely end to our pleasures.”
“Very funny, Laird Tease.” She traced his lips, smiling archly. “And your mouth took care of my sighs just fine.”
He silenced her with a kiss once more, which deepened until words were forgotten.
They lay quiet for a time, before Duncan spoke, his voice pitched low. “A messenger arrived today from Inverness. Lachlan appeared in court day before last. He did not contest the charges.”
Maggie’s head lifted from his shoulder to look at him in surprise.
“He gave a full confession and will be sentenced next week.”
“Will you go?”
“I won’t have to testify, now. So, no. I hadn’t planned to.”
“Does Fiona know?”
“I didn’t want to spoil the festive mood. She and the boys smile a bit more these days.”
Maggie nodded, fingers tracing idle circles on his chest. “She’ll be relieved that it’s over—and angry. That has overridden the guilt of late.”
“It’s understandable. He made promises to her he did no’ honor.”
They were quiet again until Duncan said, “We also must discuss a trip to London.”
“Do we dare?” she asked. “I hate to disrupt the stretch of calm. And, you haven’t yet chosen a second.”
“I may not. MacLeish is capable.”
“Indeed. The man knows the workings of the estate up one side and down the other.”
“He always has. A second to the MacPherson laird is tradition, especially when the laird’s brother is also his heir. I think it may be time for a change. A steward with authority to act in the laird’s stead when absent is the norm now.”
She inhaled and blew her breath out slowly. “I suppose we must. When do we go?”
He looked down at her, grinning. “You don’t sound excited to be going home.”
She hesitated. “High Glen feels like home now, but…it might be because it’s where you and Jamie are.”
He pulled her close, kissing her slow and deep, then whispered against her lips, “I’ll make the arrangements soon. We can’t stay in the Highlands forever. I promised your mother I’d bring back her grandson.”
“And you don’t want to cross the dowager.”
“I saw her in action, remember? I’m no’ that big of a fool.”