Page 35 of Twelfth Knight’s Bride

Aileana summoned a smile, in spite of the sadness Brighde’s remark evoked. If only her people, too, could find pleasure in the season, for it was an experience so far in her past, it felt foreign now. She had no right to find pleasure relaxing within this enemy hall, basking in having enough, which admittedly felt…wonderful.

“It might interest ye to learn that my brother is actually quite light of foot when he dances and surely wouldna’ mind a good reel with his new bride, in case ye change yer mind.” Brighde winked at Aileana now. “I see the way he watches ye. He’s unable to peel his gaze away. I’ve never seen him so taken with a woman before.”

Heat ravaged Aileana’s cheeks to be the center of so much attention. She cupped her hand upon one.

“How are yer twigs, lady?” Brighde changed the subject.

Aileana tucked the flexible ends of the evergreen around the sticks—a never-ending process, it seemed. For each day they made more, and each eve, the womenfolk burned them with a blessing tied to them, the sparks induced by the popping evergreen fabled to be the magic of the blessing coming true. She stacked it in the basket between them.

“I suspect I’ve made at least a dozen,” she replied.

“And yet ye give them away, and nay once have ye made yer own blessing.”

God no. After last night, Aileana had learned her lesson well. These folk would certainly grab torches and pitchforks if she declared a blessing in front of everyone. And yet the faces had been gentler today. She’d been treated to a kind smile or two, a curtsy here and there.

A cluster of young girls arrived before her now, giggling, red-cheeked with embarrassment. No one spoke, as if too nervous to address her. Aileana grinned at them.

“Have ye come for more blessings?” She eyed them playfully.

The children, brimming with expectance, eyed one another, then nodded.

Aileana chuckled. “Here, then.” She scooped up the bundle of ashen twigs and passed them out in turn. “Make a fine blessing with each one.”

“My thanks, mi lady,” they muttered, then giggled and scurried away.

Still chuckling, Aileana shook her head. “I remember all too well being a giddy wee lassie.”

Brighde laughed in her good-natured way, as if none of the world’s ills could dash her constant happiness. How she found such happiness after the tragic loss of her sister, Aileana wished she knew. “They’re curious about ye. Everyone is. Even Angus is warming to the idea of ye living here… Sorry. I prattle too much sometimes. It’s just, I havenae had a sister to gossip with in so long.”

She spied wee Maudie—ever obedient—carrying bundles of table linens from the kitchen wardrobes. Maudie glanced her way, and Aileana smiled at the child, who smiled back, a toothless grin. Platters of rich foods were being laid out, and laughter erupted from the hearth, where several men sat or stood in congregation, regaling each other with tales of conquests, both on the battlefield and in the bedchamber.

She shook her head, amused. “Are menfolk so much the same everywhere? For I’ve watched Urquhart’s soldiers do the same as they do time and again.”

Brighde laughed. “Ach, menfolk love to hear themselves talk. An illness that afflicts them all. Tell me, what are the festivities at Urquhart Castle?”

Aileana cleared her throat as memories of Urquhart’s barren walls and miserable folk assailed her, dampening her smile. How was Peigi doing? How was Sir Donegal? Her brother? Was Lady Elizabeth still healthy? Bitterness still lingered at the thought of her brother, so willing to send one of them away, even if she understood his predicament.

“Of late, we havenae celebrated much,” she replied.

“Why no’?” gasped Brighde. “This is by far the best part of the entire year! Midwinter is so cold, but the celebrations of Twelfthtide and all the food and drink make it such a merry time…” Her face fell. “Or is yer brother one of those religious adherents who purport that all celebrations are akin to debauchery?”

Aileana took a deep breath. Did Brighde not understand the extent of their clans’ rivalries? Was she not aware of the truth that had transpired two years ago, when James had overtaken their walls, and the lingering effect it had had? Just as she’d not been aware of Seamus’s transgressions?

She shook her head. “As of late, we’ve had less than previous winters due to raiding. But celebrations used to be such festive times.”

A commotion near the kitchens rose above the cheer. She glanced toward it.

“Help!” cried a maid. It was Anag. “Come help! It’s me sister, Maudie!”

Aileana thrust aside the twigs in her lap. What had happened? Maudie had been fine moments ago.

The guardsmen clattered from their posts, and the hall swarmed toward the corridor.

“She chokes! She cannae breathe!”

Anag’s frantic cry continued, and Aileana wedged her way through the crowd, who might have wished to help but created more of a hindrance by blockading the path.

“Pardon!” she called, nudging.