“Is that what ye think of the ceilidh, then, Kristen?” he asked.
He did not call herlass. He did not call herwife. He used her name. That was worse.
The hall fell silent once again, a feat that now seemed threatening more than anything. She hated being in the middle of this. Ever since Neil returned, she had wanted nothing more than for him to reassume his position like he did today.
However, five years would not let the others stop looking to her.
Once again, heads turned toward her. Kristen felt the heat of the candles on her cheek. She felt the cool edge of the table under her skin. She felt the small weight of Anna against her side and the brush of Finn’s sleeve at her elbow as he leaned close to be near her shoulder. She drew each breath with care.
“Aye. A cèilidh shows the clan its own face,” she said, trying to keep the words plain. “It tells folks that we can stand in one halland eat and sing. It tells them that the Laird is home. If we speak about the children there, they will hear it with warm food in their bellies. They will mind the music and be gentle.”
Her voice wanted to waver ongentle,but she would not let it.
She continued, a little quieter. “And if those who want to hurt us still listen at our doors, they will ken that we arenae afraid.”
A murmur rose, quick and low, then settled.
Neil did not blink. His eyes were dark. His shoulders were tense.
Kristen wished she could look anywhere else. Instead, she looked right back.
“I daenae think we should boast,” she said. “I think we should be humble. We can speak a truth that does nay harm. The villagers can hold a truth like that.”
A woman near the end of the table put a hand on her husband’s sleeve and nodded as if the words had filled a small hole in her chest. Davina gave the smallest nod, steady and proud.
Kristen could feel the tension in the hall pressing down on her. She had given as much as she dared with Neil’s eyes fixed on her face like iron.
“Thank ye,” she finished, unclenching her hands.
Silence deepened rather than broke. It felt like a test the hall meant to hold for one breath longer, to see who would look away first.
Maggie shifted under the bench and thumped her tail once. The sound was too loud in the hush.
Neil’s cup sat by his hand, forgotten. He leaned forward, not enough for the hall to read his expression, but enough for Kristen to feel the pull of it. She held his eyes and tried to keep her breathing steady.
It did nothing to stop her pulse from thundering in her ears.
17
Neil held her gaze while the hall held its breath. The silence had a pulse, and his heart matched it beat for beat.
“Aye then,” he rumbled, the edge in his voice eliciting a flinch two benches down. “Since the lady has such fine thoughts, perhaps she can tell us how many people should attend this cèilidh.”
Kristen squeezed her eyes shut. “Neil?—”
“Ten? Fifty, perhaps? Shall we send word to every valley, Kristen, or only those who please ye?”
The discomfort moved through the hall like a wave of cold. Men shifted in their seats, and a maid studied her shoes. Davina tightened her grip on her cup.
Amid the low murmurs that had started again after his question, Neil could hear a voice hiss,“The Wolf has come back with abiteto histongue.”
Kristen did not lower her gaze. Her fingers trembled where they rested on the table, and she lifted her chin.
“Do ye really want to ken me thoughts or nae?” she asked, her voice level. “Apparently, everyone else does.”
Lachlan leaned forward, steady and low. “Braither, there’s nay reason to pressure the lass like this.”
Neil did not look at him. “I am only waiting for an answer. Is that nae what ye’re all doing?”
