“Is this a lesson your father taught you?” Abigail felt Ronan tense, and she wondered what she’d said wrong.
“Indirectly. He died insisting on revenge against the MacNeills for raiding us. He led a raid that went afoul. He returned draped over his horse, wrapped in his plaid. He refused to let me go.”
“Do you feel guilty for that?”
“I did for many years. It was the reason I became laird. I’d always figured he would grow auld before I took on the role. I never pictured inheriting the lairdship because he died in battle, even if I always knew it was more likely than auld age. I argued that I should go in his stead, but he’d wanted revenge, not justice. I know why he took it personally. The MacNeills crossed far onto our land and attacked my mother and her guards while she was out riding. They didn’t hurt her, but they killed her guards and stole her horse. They left her to make her way back to Dun Ringill alone as night approached. My father was incensed.”
“I’m surprised you let me leave the keep with only two MacKinnon guards,” Abigail said softly.
“That’s only when you go to the village. I ken the men on the wall can see the entire village, I ken Kieran has ample men escorting Maude when you go with her. When we leave together, all my men come with us. Two won’t be enough when we arrive on Skye. You will have a larger detail, Abby.”
Ronan’s tone of voice told Abigail that he would brook no argument, and she had none to make. She understood better these days why Kieran was as protective of Maude as he was. It wasn’t merely because he loved her. She was the mother to his children, one of whom was his heir, and she was chatelaine to the keep, where their clan depended on her. While his love for her might be the strongest reason for his protectiveness, practicality also guided Kieran’s choices. She knew Ronan would be the same.
“I’ll follow your guidance, Ronan. But please don’t fear telling me things. I need to know if I’m to help defend our home and our people. I must know who I can and can’t trust and why.”
“I ken. I just don’t want you dreading going to Skye.”
“Dread it? Because Cormag is a greedy bastard? I don’t dread it. I feel like we should go back sooner. Should we?”
“Nay. I believe things are in hand for the time being, though I do need you to ken it’s a possibility. But I want you to have Christmas here with yer family. I want you to have your wedding among your family.”
“I do, too. But you ken that I know that isn’t more important, don’t you?”
“I do.” Ronan kissed Abigail’s forehead, and she snuggled closer. They lay together in silence until they went belowstairs for their meal.
* * *
When it was time to retire each evening, Abigail made the pretense of going to her chamber, but she never stopped on the second floor. She went directly to Ronan’s chamber and waited for him. He waited long enough to appear as though they observed the rules of propriety, but both were certain everyone knew that they spent every night together.
“You may as well get used to sleeping next to me, Abby. There won’t be separate chambers unless you wish for them. Even then, I would just spend every night in your chamber,” Ronan explained.
“And if I like the lady’s chamber better than the laird’s, would you move into mine?” Abigail teased.
“Yes.” Ronan’s response was so deadpan that Abigail snorted. Ronan tickled her as they lay in bed together. Separate chambers never came up again as they reminded each other of the benefits of sharing a bed.
While Ronan trained in the lists or dealt with correspondence that arrived from Skye, Abigail trailed Maude like a second shadow, absorbing everything her sister-by-marriage did as chatelaine. Abigail hadn’t realized how little attention she paid the last time Maude attempted to train her until she genuinely attempted to learn. She feared her head would burst with what she learned in such a short amount of time, but she felt prepared to take on the role of a responsible chatelaine.
Abigail accompanied her sister-by-marriage on trips to the village, learning how to evaluate thatching that needed repair. Maude showed Abigail how to look at the soundness of cottage walls. She pointed out how to tell when a family was underfed but refused to admit it. Maude explained the daily schedule for all the servants in the keep, along with her own duties. She ensured Abigail understood why certain tasks were done on certain days and in a certain order.
Maude encouraged Abigail to plan the weekly menu with their cook and to assist in taking inventory with their housekeeper. It wasn’t long before Abigail could point out supplies that needed replenishing, estimating their cost and how long it would take. Maude beamed at her sister-by-marriage, telling her frequently that Abigail impressed her. It pleased Abigail to hear the praise, and she believed its sincerity. It gave her confidence that she hadn’t previously possessed. Ronan noted the difference and couldn’t keep the pride from his eyes and voice when he talked to her. It filled Abigail with warmth, and it made the effort feel worthwhile.
Abigail and Maude stood together in the kitchens when Ronan and Kieran returned from goose hunting wet, muddy, and cursing. But both women praised their men for ensuring the clan would have a Christmas feast thanks to their skill. The men scowled when they left the kitchens and heard the uproarious laughter that drifted to them. The women were in the kitchen assisting the servants as they baked dozens of mince pies to serve on each of the twelve days of Christmas. While Abigail had been disinterested in all other duties as an adolescent, she had enjoyed time in the kitchens. She sneaked a mince pie to Ronan on Christmas Eve, even though he shouldn’t have eaten meat. He swore that he would have married her just for her cooking.
Sixteen
Abigail leaned against Ronan’s shoulder with their fingers woven together beneath the folds of Abigail’s gown. The candles twinkled in the wall sconces of Stornoway’s chapel. The music of the Christmas Eve vigil filled the high ceilings. She closed her eyes as years of childhood Christmases celebrated with her family floated back to her. While some clans and their clergy preferred “troping” during the service, Abigail was happy that the length of the service wasn’t increased by the congregation and clergy taking turns repeating verses of prayer and songs. She much preferred the MacLeods’ of Lewis tradition of a Nativity play. With a young lass in the laird’s family, the manger held a toddler to play Baby Jesus that year. Abigail, along with everyone else, fought to stifle their laughter when one of the Magi leaned over the manager to present his gift and was greeted with a loud belch. It was soon followed by more sounds of gastric distress, and Maude rushing forward to retrieve her daughter.
Abigail listened as the clan’s priest and three men performedThe Prophetsplay. She enjoyed the priest’s interviews of Jeremiah, Moses, and Daniel as part of the celebration of Christ’s birth. She always felt Christmastide began when the congregation sang “In Dulci Jublio.” As a child, Abigail thought the sweet rejoicing meant the service was nearly over. As an adult, it gave Abigail pause to consider the blessings her prosperous clan enjoyed. As though thinking the same thing, Ronan squeezed her hand as the last verse began. She glanced up at him, and her heart melted from the love that shone in his eyes.
With each night that they made love, they grew closer as they shared their bodies. But their conversations as they lay abed together brought them a connection that forged their relationship in steel. Abigail had never felt as understood and accepted as she did with Ronan. He encouraged her lightheartedness and easy cheer while he often remained a quiet observer. She drew him out of his shell with each night that they spent among her clan. She wondered how she would feel when she was introduced to the MacKinnons. He chuckled as she rattled off question after question, but he welcomed her excitement and curiosity. When news of three successful raids reached them, they agreed to remain at Stornoway through Epiphany, and Abigail showed her gratitude the night Ronan suggested they stay through the second Christmastide feast. She whispered a suggestion from what she’d overheard the day she stumbled upon the trio planning theirménage à troisat Stirling. Ronan eagerly embraced the new position they tried, and both fell asleep, exhausted but satiated.
* * *
Christmas morning shone brightly with a layer of snow on the ground when Abigail and Ronan awoke. Neither was in a hurry to begin the day, but they both looked forward to the festivities, knowing they would marry on the steps of the kirk at sundown. Then the clan would celebrate their nuptials and the birth of Christ with a feast that would last well into the next day.
“Are you ready to be known as Lady MacKinnon?” Ronan asked as he stroked her back while Abigail lay nestled against his side.
“Very much, my laird-husband. I ken pride is a sin, and today of all days I should probably strive not to sin, but I am so immensely proud to be your wife. I want the entire world to ken how much I love you and want to be married to you.”
