“Bah!” Gavin chuckled. “It’ll take more tae bring me down!”
“Husband!” Ella’s sharp voice cut through the merriment at the high table, and Gavin’s face became suddenly serious. “Come on, keep me company!” and she gestured to Gavin’s empty seat beside her at the center of the hall.
“I’m in a splash o’ trouble,” Gavin mumbled, his face going even redder from the embarrassment of being called out.
“Be more than a splash if ye dinnae get!” Kyle laughed back, and Domnal gave Gavin a friendly boot from behind, sending the Laird stumbling over to his waiting wife.
“Ye have done well,” Domnal said, flopping down onto the bench beside Kyle. “Everyone is talkin’ about ye.”
“Is that so?” Kyle asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, looking out over the hall. He was looking for Laila, but she was nowhere to be seen. He began to panic that she had already returned to castle Willby with her family. In all honesty, he was entirely unsure how much time had passed when he was in the infirmary, as well as what may have been said, what decisions may have been made, and everything in between.
Kyle suddenly felt like a fish out of water amidst all this glorious celebration but lost in his own purpose. He felt the joy of the moment beginning to fade as he continued to search, feeling the pain in his shoulder growing with his uncertainty.
“Domnal,” he said, adjusting a bit in his seat as to get closer to his friend’s ear.
“What’s that?” Domnal asked, pouring another dram for the both of them.
“Where is Laila?” Kyle asked, his eyes still panning around the absurdities all around them.
“With her family,” Domnal answered.
Kyle’s heart sank even further. She was gone. Had she even said goodbye? Perhaps she had, and he had just been drifting in and out of consciousness. He bit his lip. Willby castle was close, but it would be a while before he would be able to ride. It was by no means the end of the world, but it was a terrible disappointment, and the thought of her being somewhere else immediately began crushing Kyle’s good mood. The festival around him was quickly becoming dull and dreary, overelaborate and gaudy.
“Ye see?” Domnal laughed. “There they are,” and he gave Kyle a playful slap on his back. The pain the small love tap caused was no match for the soaring exuberance that took hold of him instantly.
The Willbys entered the hall in a small procession, with all the folks around hooting and hollering, wringing their hands together and clapping. Lord Willby was out front, his old, wrinkled face held high among the din, a small sly smirk resting on his aged face. Behind him walked Jacob, also looking proud and glad to be the center of attention, his gate wide and his hand upon the hilt of his sword, looking ready to speak with the King of England rather than being received by a Scottish Laird.
In the rear, Matthew limped along, supported by a gnarled walking stick. His movements were slow but determined, and around the edges of his fine tunic, his blossoming bruises could be seen. They were unenviable injuries, but they also marked him as a man of action to be celebrated at the victory festivities.
In the center was Laila, and Kyle met her eyes from across the room. For a moment, he felt his breath leave his chest, and he could have fallen from his seat without noticing. The noises were suspended like the entire room had been captured suddenly in a tapestry and stood still for a patient observer, but through it moved Laila, the glowing center of light that powered Kyle’s universe.
She was stunning, and all encapsulating, a beacon of beauty and prosperity lighting up the hall, turning every idle head and capturing every man’s attention, but hers was paid to only one, and Kyle was fast losing himself to her deep, rich eyes.
He had never seen her so groomed, clean and done up in a fine dress with her hair held high in one of the new French styles. She was absolutely radiant, but more than that, she was there, and Kyle would be able to hold her, to tell her how much he cared for her, and to never let her go again.
“Citizens of McGowan and Willby!” Walter called out, standing upon an orator’s box. His arm still rested in a sling, but the rest of him was very much alive and excited, and anyone who had known him previously would think he was an entirely different man. “Presenting the Lord Edward Willby and his family! Jacob Willby, Laila Willby, and Matthew Willby!”
Lord Willby smiled a bit wider and waved out to the crowd, eliciting another massive cheer, and the crowd parted a bit to make way for them to work their way up to the head table. “Me friends!” Gavin called, standing up a bit sloppily, the drunkenness even more apparent on his red face peeking out behind his red beard. “Come! Join us!”
They made their way to the head table, where a space had been set aside for them, and Kyle watched Laila every step of the way, his stomach spiking with all sorts of butterflies as she returned his steady gaze.
“Lads!” Gavin shouted out into the hall and the tents outside. “Quiet down then!”
“The Laird has an announcement!” Walter shouted, and his voice carried a surprising amount of authority. It was as if being freed from Lord Hamilton’s ever-present shadow had allowed his confidence to blossom in an incredibly short amount of time, and the cheer in his face reflected it.
The guests slowly gathered about, their voices dying down as people mumbled back and forth to each other about the nature of the announcement. After a few moments, all faces were silent and looking up at Gavin expectantly, eager to hear what he had to say.
“We are blessed!” Gavin began making a wide sweeping motion with his arms. “Tae have such friends!” and he banged his hand against the table, eliciting another bout of cheering and thunderous clapping. He let them go for a while, then he waved his hands, dampening down the sound.
“And friends so close!” Gavin went on when the room had settled once more. “Recently, we all o’ us were beset by devils. Rich devils. Devils who thought they could take from us with nay a repercussion. Led by one devil in particular! The late Lord Hamilton! Curse his name!”
Yet again, the room exploded. One of Gavin’s greatest strengths as a Laird was his ability to hold a crowd, and he was certainly showing his strips, with no regard for how much he was swaying back and forth and catching a scowl from his very pregnant wife.
“But through this terrible trial,” Gavin said, waving his hand again and bringing down the volume. “We have learned the value o’ true friendship. And we have learned who our true friends are! They are here! They are our neighbors! They are our allies!” Gavin gave a gesture toward Lord Willby and bowed his head in an attempt to surrender the floor amid all the cheering.
“We are honored,” Lord Willby began, slowly taking to his feet and raising up his hands. The room settled down a pair at a time as he continued, “to be hosted in such a fine place, with such fine folk. For too long, there has been great animosity between our people, and now that we are at peace, it warms my heart to embark on a new journey of friendship.”
There was another minor uproar at the mention of friendship, but Lord Willby’s gentle demeanor and tone instilled a softer audience, eager to hear his next words. More people outside in the yard clustered as close as they could to the entrance of the hall, the rain still streaming down from all the gaps in the patchwork of tents and tarps.
