The room’s silence was deafening as everyone pondered Morven’s words.
“I cannae understand how the three children of mine that are married cannae follow the normal pathway to said marriage. Is it too much to ask?”
Lillias spoke with a giggle. “Arthur, dearest. You forget how we wed. Do not fail to remember that we were destined by an old legend.Things happen for a reason, and not always in a way we feel they should. What is important, is that our children are happy.”
Arthur shook his head. “Yer words are wise, but once again we are in a position where we need to acquiesce with another clan because of the actions of one of our children.”
Lillias shrugged. “It should be the MacGregor coming to us for forgiveness, if aught. ’Tis our daughter that was wed to one of their clansmen. But that should not matter. They are happy. Without our interference and grumbling, you can see the love they share. That is what is important.”
The room was quiet. The only noise the crackling of the logs in the hearth.
With a soft voice, Eilidh spoke. “I am still yer daughter, Da. And Alpin, I am still yer sister.” She reached out a hand and grasped Alpin’s, squeezing. “I need ye all. And I would love yer support. It would mean much to me.”
Moira pushed out of the chair where she had been sitting and gave her a tight hug, breaking the tension in the room. She, more than anyone else in the room, understood the difficulty in loving someone that the family did not approve of.
Rory did not move—he only listened. Stoically silent as always. When their eyes meet, he gave Eilidh a stiff nod.
With naught further to say, Eilidh exited the room, breathless, needing fresh air. She was unsure of how the talk went. Of whether she had won or only managed to open old scars. She thought she may have won over her mother, Moira, and Rory. She already had Morven.
But the two people that could rip her and Torquil apart—her father and Alpin—remained gruff.
Unsure of what the future held, she ran outside, gasping for breath.
Torquil said he would fight and continue to do so.
She would do the same.
Chapter Twenty
The sun waswarm on Torquil’s back as he worked on repairs, trying to make himself useful and hopefully show the Harts that he had the strength and capability to care for Eilidh as needed. The stares from the Hart villagers made him feel like a trespasser. He could feel their looks boring into his back wherever he went. Whatever he did. He sighed, pushing his hand through his hair, unsure of how he could win over a whole clan that seemed to be so dead set against him.
He found Alpin working on some fencing and offered to help. Alpin coldly dismissed him. “Ye’re no’ needed.”
“I am willing to help. The job will go quickly if shared betwixt the two of us.”
“I dinnae need the help of a MacGregor,” Alpin spat. “Ye are more likely to sabotage the fence so that it keeps no one out, and instead lets them in, than fix aught.”
Torquil held his tongue, kenning that Alpin was coming from a place of anger about circumstances that were out of his control. But he would have appreciated a chance to make him see that he was not the enemy. He cared naught for the deeds of his clansmen and whatever they had done under the order of his cousin. They were warriors. That was how they lived their lives. It was not how he lived his. Though he still had his doubts about the stories he had heard since his arrival at Hartsmoor.
“I can help ye with the fence,” he said again, calmly.
“And I said I dinnae want yer help.” Alpin spun on him. “Since when are ye so helpful around the castle when all ye do is sit around and play yer lute. Leave the physical work to those that can do it,” he said bitterly.
“It appears ye think ye ken me, but ye dinnae. I may no’ live at MacGregor keep, but I will have ye ken that I have my own cottage. One that I have built every piece of furniture within it. Without help. My lute has naught to do with it.”
Alpin shook his head in dismissal. “I willnae allow ye to use Eilidh to gain favor with the Harts. Whate’er yer reasoning was for all of this, I willnae have it. She willnae be a pawn in yer game.”
Torquil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Do ye think I would suffer this house to play politics? I dinnae ken whate’er favor ye think I would be gaining, but ye are sorely mistaken. Ye lot are miserable to deal with. So much so, I find myself wondering how Eilidh comes from such a place.” He clenched his fists as Alpin got in his face, snarling.
“Och, och. Enough.” Morven squeezed between the two of them, intervening. “Ye two must cease. Ye are acting like fools, the both of ye.” Her eyes glanced from one man to the other, and back again. “Ye are behaving like children.”
For a long moment, the two men glared at each other, but eventually they parted without exchanging any blows. Torquil stormed off, ashamed of doing so, but furious at the same time. He never wanted this war. Once again he cursed his carelessness at getting caught in a compromising position with Eilidh. If it were not for that fateful night, he could have found a way to court her properly and, hopefully, win the blessing of her da. But that chance was taken away from him and he could not change the past.
Inside Eilidh’s chamber, he grabbed his lute and made his way out through the courtyard, heading for the woods where he could bealone, away from those that held naught but hate in their hearts for him.
Sweet solitude. That was what he was after.
He wandered through the thick trees, absentmindedly strumming his lute as he walked. Unsure of himself and where he fit in, because for certs, he did not fit in here with the Harts.
