A dozen people were standing over her when she opened her eyes, trying to raise her and brush the mud off her plaid at the same time.
“Wee devils, those two. Never still for a moment,” one of the women said, looking in the direction the lads had gone. “Are ye badly hurt, Mistress Fia?”
“No, I’m well enough,” Fia said, getting to her feet. In truth, she was more embarrassed than hurt.
Then she noticed that Annie’s bannocks had spilled out of the basket into the mud. “Oh no.” She bent to retrieve them, but they were ruined. Not even Bel would eat them now. Still she gathered them up, put them back in the basket. Folk watched her with odd expressions. “For the birds,” she said. “Someone should have the good of them, don’t you think?”
They exchanged curious glances and bade her good day, but the weather turned suddenly as a cloud bullied its way across the sky and rudely sat itself down in front of the sun as Fia left the village. Behind her, folk chattered about the accident, and Muriel’s wee black cat hurried up the path behind her.
Then the sky opened making folk scurry indoors out of the sudden squall.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Is it dark yet?” Meggie asked, sitting at the dressing table, powdering her face. Her golden hair was long and loose over her shoulders, and a crown of flowers—mugwort, meadowsweet, lavender, ferns, and roses—sat beside her, waiting to be placed on her head. She wore a simple gown—well, simple for Meggie. It was white silk, lavishly embroidered with wee flowers around the hem and bodice.
Fia wore plain blue linen. She stood by the window watching the sky for the first stars to come out, the signal to light the fire on the cliff by the sea and for the folk of Carraig Brigh to gather around it.
“I suppose everyone at Glen Iolair is celebrating,” Meggie sighed. “The lads will be flirting with the lasses. I hope Marcail behaves herself—she made a right numpty of herself last year over Colin MacLeod.”
“No harm came of it, and every lass makes a numpty of herself at midsummer,” Fia said.
“Not you,” Meggie said.
Nay, not her—Fia sat with the old folks, listened to stories, or rocked bairns while their mothers danced. No one took her hand, pulled her up to join the fun, or tried to steal a kiss. While her sisters woke to gossip about their adventures the next morning, Fia never had anything to tell. It would be the same this year. She would sit and smile and pretend she was content as others enjoyed themselves. A hard buzz filled her chest as she watched Meggie comb her hair. Her sister was so beautiful. Dair would pull Meggie into his arms, dance with her, kiss her, claim her. Would Fia still be able to smile and pretend then?
She ran her fingertips over the soft flowers of Meggie’s crown. “Lavender, roses, and meadowsweet, all the plants that attract love. Just who are you hoping to bewitch with your charms tonight?”
She braced for her sister’s reply, but Meggie just laughed. “I want to bewitchallthe lads, of course, and make all the lasses jealous.”
“Be careful,” Fia said.
Meggie rose and took Fia’s hands. “You sound like Aileen, or Da. What fun is there in being careful?” Fia gave her a sober stare. “Och, all right, if I’m to be careful, then you must be reckless, or no one will think the Fearless MacLeods have any spirit at all. Do something you can rue in the morning, Fia.”
“Don’t be silly,” Fia said, and tried to pull her hands free, but Meggie held tight. “Promise me you’ll enjoy yourself tonight.”
Fia’s smile felt false. “I always do.”
Meggie snorted. “No you don’t, and it’s time you did. I’ve heard the Sinclair lads saying how kind you are, how sweet.”
“No one loses their heart to akindlass,” Fia said.
“Some do. One will. You’ve got a fire inside you, Fia MacLeod, and you’re as pretty as any lass.” She picked up the crown of flowers and put it on Fia’s head instead of her own. The flower petals were cool against her forehead, the scent sweet. “There now. You look very bonny indeed. Are you ready?” Meggie asked.
“Shouldn’t we wait, walk out with Dair?”
Meggie sniffed. “Alasdair Og won’t be coming, or so I’ve heard. I can’t think that’s a bad thing. He’s so—dour.”
Not coming?Fia’s jaw dropped. He was the chief while his father was away. Hemustcome, give his blessing to the clan. She looked at the shiny patches on her fingertips where the burns were almost healed. She knew why he’d stay away—the Sinclairs feared him. They turned away when he came near, or made secrets signs against madness and curses behind their backs. They didn’t think he saw, but he did, one more wound that would not heal.
“It’s almost dark. Are you ready?” Meggie asked.
Fia bit her lip. “There’s something I must do first. You go ahead with John and Ina, and I’ll come along later.”
Meggie was too excited to wait. “Hurry then,” she said, and swept out the door.
Fia knocked on the door of Dair’s chamber.
“Come,” he said.
