But then he squeezed Finley to him for a moment as they approached Rory and Ina’s longhouse. It was just today. Just today. And it wasLá Bealltainn. Nothing so drastic was going to happen today to prevent him from enjoying this town, this woman, on such a special day.
Today, he belonged.
* * * *
Murdoch sighed and sat down on the rock rolled near to the fire. He tucked the handle of the spade behind his arm, and reached into his pouch for the skin, but rather than opening it at once, he rested it across his thigh and stared out over the low rooftops of the town toward the sparkling blue bay and the wide, seemingly endless sea beyond. No ships. No ships for years.
He’d kept his word.
If he hadn’t been listening for them, the need fire would have surely masked the hesitant, shuffling footsteps behind him.
Murdoch retrieved one of the cold oatcakes from his pouch and then unstoppered the flask and took a mouthful of the whisky. Then he reseated the cork and rose slightly to place the flask and the oatcake on the sandy, rocky ground away from where he sat. Murdoch took the spade from beneath his arm and stepped to the fire to herd the spreading flames. He couldn’t hear the footsteps so near the roar, but he knew they were still there.
“You are welcome at my fire, Geordie Blair,” Murdoch called out.
* * * *
The leftover food from their morning meal was packed into the baskets, along with the dishes made the day before, and Finley and her mother looped the handles over their arms as they preceded the men from the house and toward the beach. A few townsfolk had carried tables and benches out onto the sand, and even now, some were busy setting up short, staked flags, placing painted targets and piling wood for smaller fires.
The wind was gentle and warm over the waves, sending the flags fluttering. Children took shifts guarding the food baskets from the excited seabirds that swooped over the beach like banners tethered long on the end of the children’s sticks.
The men and older boys wandered down the beach in loose groups, their belts heavy with weaponry, and in moments, the first rounds of the games began. Axes, daggers, and freshly sharpened spears were hurled over the sand toward the targets, with shouts of triumph and cries of lament decorating the air. The girls and younger children had stick horse races, and water-carrying competitions, and there was a net-plaiting contest for the women. Ina Carson won it easily, and to the laughing encouragement of all the women gathered when she’d told them the secret was all the years she’d spent trying to get Finley to hold still long enough to have her hair tamed.
The food was brought out. Then the mead. And then the second round of men’s games began. Lachlan had a good showing, and Finley wanted to think it was because he knew she was there watching him, cheering for him.
Her husband. Her husband whom she wanted to stay in Carson Town. She wanted him to stay and be her husband in truth.
And tonight, emboldened byLá Bealltainn,she would tell him so.
Then all were divided into groups for the foot races. The youngest children went first, along a short course on the beach, and Finley thought no one at all won that heat, because most of them ended up on their faces and squalling because they got sand in their eyes and—soon after—their mouths. The older children were divided by age and sent into and through the town, with the victors winning special shell necklaces.
As the afternoon slid into evening, all the men thirteen and older were gathered together for the longest and most anticipated foot race: through the town, past the old house, to the falls bridge and back. A lad of ten and four easily claimed the prize of a pewter mug, and it was soon filled with rewarding mead for the victor as the sun hovered over the horizon and the beach fires were lit.
Finley found a panting and sweating Lachlan near the mead barrel and strolled up to him, her hands clasped behind her back.
“Showin’ your age are you, Blair?” she taunted with a smile.
The men around the table laughed as Lachlan turned to face her. He paused a moment, taking in her appearance. She still wore her flower crown, but her hair was loosed from her plaits and flowing over the bodice of the gown she’d worn on their wedding day. Appreciation burned in his eyes.
“Och, I let the lad have it,” he said. “Every boy needs a bit of encouragement now and again.”
She snorted. “Icould have bested you in that race.”
Lachlan turned up his cup and drained it, set it on the table, and then reached out to snag Finley around her waist. He pulled her to him and leaned his face close to her, but just when Finley thought he would kiss her, he touched her nose with his fingertip and grinned.
“You’re adorable.”
He released her, and Finley tried to hold back her own smile. “Does that mean you willna accept my challenge? I understand if you’re afraid.”
The men ooh’ed in anticipation. A set of pipes squeezed out a few hesitant notes, and then took up a lively tune, while a pair of drummers added high and low percussion to the salty, cooling air.
Lachlan placed his hand on the tabletop and leaned his face toward hers. “A challenge, is it?”
“Aye. Down the beach to the pools.”
“To what spoils go the victor?” Lachlan asked.
She shrugged, as if she hadn’t thought that far ahead, as if it didn’t matter. In truth, it didn’t, because she hoped to gain her victory before returning to the festivities. “Boon of his or her asking.”
