Page 130 of Ghost of the Ton

Our clan…

He paused, and when she whispered her consent, he linked his arm through hers. He turned and nodded to Reverend Sutherland, who began reciting a prayer. Then he led her through the company, who parted and bowed their heads. Eilidh followed, Iona by her side. Then the rest of the clan lined up behind them, forming a procession toward the castle building.

The great hall, no longer a makeshift hospital, had been transformed. Long tables lined the perimeter, laden with pies, soups, and roasts. A feast to honor the departed—ten souls in all, of whom Evie was the last to be buried.

Mia caught her breath as she recalled the last time she’d seen the great hall ready for a feast—the wedding feast that her arrival had interrupted. The man beside her now, the disappointed bridegroom, paused, as if recalling the same memory.

“Forgive me, Mia,” he whispered, his eyes glistening.

Were his tears for Evie, for his clan…or for her?

“What for?”

“For everything,” he said. “For not taking the vaccine—which brought about deaths that will lie heavy on my soul—and for causing so much work for ye while my people suffered. But most of all…” His voice cracked and he closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. When he opened them again, moisture pooled in the corners. “Most of all, for not being the husband ye deserve. For not loving ye as ye deserve.”

Mia’s heart clenched.

He had said it. Though he begged forgiveness—his humble plea only making her love him more—in the same breath he admitted that he didn’t love her. She would have borne it better had he been a cruel man. But he was not. He was a man of honor, loyal to his clan and the people who depended on him. And to not be loved by such a man…

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. “And if there were, you’d have my forgiveness without needing to ask.”

He led her toward the high table at the far end, seated her in the center, then sat beside her. The company followed, pausing before them to nod in greeting before taking their seats—first Eilidh and Iona, who took the seats either side of Mia and Hamish, then the rest of the clan. When Murdoch approached, he paused and bowed his head.

“Laird MacLennan, Lady MacLennan…”

Mia opened her mouth to protest, and Hamish squeezed her hand.

“Please, Mia,” he whispered. “Today, ye’re my wife and Lady of Glenblath, even if ye wish ye weren’t.”

She glanced at him, but his face was in profile and she couldn’t see his full expression. But she caught a glimmer of moisture in his eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone.

After the company was seated, the feast began, to honor the lost souls and give thanks for those who had survived. Amid the backdrop of soft music, the company ate, their conversation muted, the deep tones reminiscent of the sounds of the river.

How she would miss them—the servants and tenants who now looked upon her with affection and gratitude. The handful who still made their dislike clear—Shona, and one or two others—could not lessen her sense of belonging. But she would be leaving, once Iona’s child arrived. Hamish had raised funds to repay most of her dowry, and a letter had arrived from Portia offering Mia a home and expressing her desire to see her again.

A light hand touched hers and Mia turned to see Eilidh watching her, compassion in her clear green eyes.

“Are ye well, lass?”

Mia nodded, unable to speak lest her sorrow betray her.

“Today’s not a day to be unhappy, lass. Evie wouldnae have wished it.”

“I-I know, Eilidh. She’s at peace now.”

“Och, lass, I wasnae referring to yer sorrow over Evie’s passing. I was referring to yerself, and how ye’re soon to be leaving us once Iona’s had her bairn.”

The man beside Mia stiffened.

“Has young Brodie been giving ye satisfaction?” Eilidh continued, then she glanced at Hamish as his knife slipped to the floor and fell with a clatter.

He turned his gaze to her, his expression hardening. Eilidh merely smiled and nodded to him.

“Brodie’s been so helpful, son,” she said. “Not content with fetching and carrying for yer sister, even though she’s perfectly capable of fending for herself, Brodie’s been helping Mia pack her belongings for when she leaves Glenblath.”

“Is that so?” Hamish said, his voice a low growl as his gaze settled on the young groom sitting beside Ailsa. Brodie glanced up and his eyes widened. Then he colored and resumed his attention on the plate in front of him.

On Hamish’s other side, Iona sat, staring at Brodie across the hall as she pushed her food around her plate.