His men, however, did not seem to read the message as clearly as Ailsa did.
“Aye, we’ll show the wee miss what’s what, Captain!” one called.
“No slip of a lass can keep up with a Buchanan warrior,” contributed another.
Vaila stood, shielding her eyes. “Did I nae knock ye right on yer arse this morning, Duncan Buchanan?” she called.
“Vaila,” Ailsa said. “Language!”
But the men had already moved on, turning to torment poor Duncan Buchanan, who had, it was agreed, been knocked quite hard right on his arse by the wee miss in question.
“I apologize for my coarse language, yer lairdship, yer ladyship,” Vaila said, sounding entirely unapologetic.
“Sometimes a lady must defend herself by means fair or foul,” Lady Buchanan said with the kind of sweetness that suggested an iron spine beneath.
“I’d nay worry about Miss Vaila’s ability to defend herself, my lady,” offered Captain McGregor, his gaze fixed on Vaila. “Ye need only to see her with her knives to ken it true.”
There was a note of something heavy in the captain’s tone. Vaila looked down at the table then, a bashful note creeping over her features. Eilidh’s eyes went wide as the conversation around them turned to a new topic.
“Careful, Vaila,” she teased. “I think Captain McGregor is planning yer wedding already.”
Vaila’s head jerked around to glare at her youngest sister. What really intrigued Ailsa, however, was that this glare was accompanied by a rush of color to her cheeks.
“Perhaps ye are too young and foolish to appreciate it, Eilidh,” Vaila snapped, “but not everything between men and women is about marriage.”
Eilidh did not look offended by this comment. “No, not everything,” she agreed, “but this? Definitely.”
Vaila cast about for support, but found none. Davina was smothering a giggle behind her hand. Even Mairi, who was watching all this with great interest, gave Vaila a doubtful look.
“I’ve known James McGregor my whole life,” she said. “I’ve never known him to… stare with quite so much focus.”
Vailaharrumphed, but she looked a little bit pleased.
Dinner continued on, the savory dishes forsaken for a simple dessert that made the most of the short but delicious raspberry season. There was cream and a crumble made from oats and honey, all accompanied by fat, ripe berries that popped in Ailsa’s mouth with nothing more than the slightest pressure from her teeth.
It was a fine end to the day. She’d made it nearly all the way through the meal without thinking of the horrifying scene of her parents’ death. Mairi Buchanan was beginning to look at her and her sisters with something a little more like a welcoming air.
And today with Ewan had been… good. Confusing, but good.
And not just because of the kissing. Not that she wasstillthinking about it, of course.
Everything was still impossibly complicated. But it would still be impossibly complicated tomorrow. So, just for now, she let herself enjoy the momentary peace.
As soon as she let herself settle, however, let herself take a breath that truly filled all of her, the door opened to reveal a messenger, panting, a cut on his arm dripping blood that was visible even through the dark material of his shirt.
The conversation in the hall died in quick waves as everyone’s attention seized upon the new arrival.
Laird Buchanan rose to his feet. “What is the meaning of this? Iain, who harmed ye?”
Iain, in Ailsa’s opinion, looked lessharmedand more furious as he stormed up to the front dais where the laird and his family sat before the rest of the clan.
“We’ve had a message, M’Laird,” the burly clansman said, brandishing a letter that he had produced from a fold of his plaid. He slapped it down in front of the Laird with a disgusted sniff. “From one Finlay Gordon.”
At the sound of that bastard’s name, Ewan felt his hands clench into fists.
It was good, the reminder. A moment ago, he had practically forgotten about the troubles that were looming ever closer. He’dbeen lost in watching Ailsa’s shoulders unclench, watching her laugh and joke with her sisters. When his own sister had joined in, he’d been able to see a vision of the future that appealed to him more than he cared to admit. One where he and Ailsa had a marriage based on more than the need to defeat a common enemy.
One where they were a true family.
