Page 66 of Laird of Wrath

The bard began to sing, and the band followed him. He sang of the people they had lost, of those who had given their lives heroically in the battle, who would be with them in spirit if not in body.

The entire hall was quiet, everyone listening. And among them was Callum, trying to keep the lump in his throat from suffocating him, trying to honor those men without letting their memories weigh him down to the point that he would collapse.

Next to him, Hudson seemed to feel the same way, his hands curling tightly around the edge of the table, his knuckles going bone-white as he held onto it for dear life. Callum laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and his friend turned to look at him, his eyes red-rimmed and wet with unshed tears.

When the bard finished, Callum rose from his chair and raised his wine cup in a toast. “To those brave men,” he boomed. “Andto those they left behind. May they always be remembered as the heroes they were.”

The clansmen and women raised their own cups in response, toasting the memory of the fallen soldiers.

And then, ever so slowly, the atmosphere in the hall shifted again, joy seeping through the cracks, until the music turned joyful and people were dancing and laughing.

Eventually, two men cleared the dance floor. Callum, as well as everyone around him, knew what was to come.

The first notes of that old song rang in the hall as the two men drew their weapons. Callum recognized it immediately—Buailidh mi thu anns a’ cheann, a tune that might have been older than the castle itself, but which everyone in the room could sing along.

The two men danced around each other under the gaze of every guest. Callum leaned forward in his seat, watching them excitedly, recognizing them both in the light of the candles that lit up the Great Hall. They were soldiers, some of the youngest in his troops, who had clearly taken it upon themselves to learn this weapon dance, this choreographed sparring that was as exciting as watching the real thing.

Both of them moved fluidly, pirouetting and jumping around each other, their swords glinting in the warm light. Every swing of their blades, every time a top got a little too close to skin, hadeveryone in the hall gasping, the guests’ eyes wide with fear for something that wouldn’t happen.

Those were dull blades; Callum recognized them from the training grounds. But as he and Hudson had found out not so long ago, they could still hurt if one was whacked with the dull edge.

The guests cheered and cried, excitement rippling through them as the two young men glided and flew around each other. They were good soldiers, but they were even better dancers. The way they moved around one another reminded Callum of when he and Hudson used to train together every day until they knew each other’s tells better than they knew themselves. And if their impressive moves and graceful dance weren’t enough to move him, then the bond they seemed to have was.

When the dance ended, Callum was the first to stand and cheer, clapping heartily. The two men looked at him with wide eyes, stunned by his reaction. He couldn’t blame them, nor anyone else in the hall who stared at him the same way, as if he had just sprouted a second head.

He was not the kind of man who showed emotion this easily, not even excitement. But these men deserved his praise, and he was happy to give it wholeheartedly.

“Did ye enjoy it?” Rhea asked him with a small, teasing smile when he sat back down.

“Aye,” he replied. “Very much.”

“I’m glad,” she said, and he could have sworn that her cheeks turned a faint pink hue, as if she was truly pleased. “This is all for ye, after all. I want ye to enjoy it.”

“It’s for all of us,” Callum corrected. Everyone in the clan needed this celebration, even if there was another one coming soon. “But ye did a good job, Rhea. Truly, ye exceeded all me expectations. Thank ye for this.”

He couldn’t resist, not when Rhea was looking at him with such pride. He leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, one that had her gasping in surprise, before he pulled back to look at her.

If her cheeks were pink before, now they were a bright shade of red.

He didn’t give her any time to react before standing up again and raising his cup. The hall went quiet, everyone turning to listen to him.

“Let us drink!” he boomed, and the hall erupted in cheers.

22

Let us drink, Callum said, and that was precisely what he proceeded to do.

Rhea watched as he downed two drinks in a row, without any intention of stopping, but she was soon distracted by Mabel.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to a feast,” she said, looking around in joy. “It’s nice to see everyone like this.”

“I thought ye didnae like feasts,” Rhea remarked.

Her sister was a quiet girl, and even when they were children, she did not enjoy feasts with so many guests. Though Rhea supposed that Mabel was now a grown woman at twenty years of age and she would soon start planning feasts for her clan and her husband.

Rhea often wondered what Mabel’s husband would be like. She wanted her sister to marry a good man, a gentle man, someonewith the same disposition as her, though that was far from easy. Not many men were gentle in the Highlands, and though Mabel wouldn’t necessarily wed a laird, being the second daughter, she was more than likely to wed someone who wanted to lead—someone who had trained for it from birth, someone who had been set up for it.

Those men were hardly ever gentle.