Page 77 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

She colored again. “’Tis nae, but I wanted tae give ye something.”

“Ye already have.” He bent to kiss her on the forehead, then on the lips. “I am honored tae bear yer favor taenight.”

They stood for a moment, then Alistair straightened his kilt and sash - no easy feat when his body ached for her to remain close to him - and offered her his arm. “We dinnae want tae be late.”

Niamh shook her head. “Nay. We dinnae.” She smiled and took his arm, and together the two of them made their way downstairs, out the doors, past the heavy gates standing open to allow the clan folk to pass through, and down to the riverside, where three large bonfires were set up, waiting to be lit.

A hush fell on the gathered clan, all of them waiting as the sun edged toward the horizon, toward the twilight that would signal the start of Samhain night. When the sun was halfway down, Ewan lit a torch and passed it to Alistair.

As the last sliver of the sun began to sink behind the trees, Alistair lit the bonfire. The wood went up in a great whoosh of flame, helped along by the oils and herbs that made up parts of it. Ewan took a new torch, as did Catriona, and the other two fires were lit with similar ceremony.

As the flames danced, the pipers began the traditional song. Alistair drew Niamh into his arms and swung her into the opening steps of the first Samhain night’s dance.

He expected her to be uncertain, perhaps stumbling. He expected to find her stepping on his toes. However, Niamh kept pace with him as if she’d grown up knowing the song, her steps smooth and light and perfectly timed, each one exactly as it should be. Alistair felt his heart swell a little more with admiration. She must have practiced a great deal to learn the steps of the dance so well.

They circled the bonfire together, in time to the wild, mournful music of bagpipes and drums, and harps. Alistair swept Niamh into a spin, her skirts flaring out around her. Firelight framed her face and lit her auburn hair with a radiance all its own, as if the flames themselves had blessed her.

Other couples joined in, but Alistair paid them no heed. The dance was theirs alone, and all that mattered to him was the music and the feel of Niamh in his arms, dancing together as if they’d been made for this moment.

Perhaps we have.

By the time the music ended, they were both flushed and panting, cheeks shining with perspiration and aching with the smile they shared. Alistair spun Niamh through a final few steps, then lifted her up and kissed her soundly. All around them the clan folk cheered, and Samhain started in earnest.

Niamh laughed as he set her down. “There now. I trust I didnae embarrass ye this time.”

Alistair shook his head. “Nay. Ye were perfect.” He studied her face. “Would ye like some cider now?”

“I…” Niamh faltered, then nodded. “I would, and then… I ken ye might be worried, but I’d like a moment or two o’ privacy. Tae send the letters tae me maither.”

Alistair wanted to object, but he held his tongue. Not only did he understand the importance of the ritual for her - having read bits of the letter she’d written over her shoulder - but every Highlander knew that communications with the other side were sacred, and not to be intruded upon. Some were comfortable sending their wishes to the wind in front of others, but many were not.

Besides, it would give him a moment to send his own wish to his father, and to Constance, a silent prayer that they would bless his happiness with Niamh.

The cider was cold and sweet and crisp and had likely been sitting in the well for some time. Both of them drank deeply, then returned the cups, in exchange for small offering tokens to give to the flames to ask for blessings through the winter. It was another of the laird’s duties to offer the First Offering, and he did so willingly, his free hand curled in Niamh’s as they both offered up wheat gleanings and apple peels to the flames.

Once that was done, Niamh stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Dinnae fret, husband. I’ll nae be gone long, and then we can enjoy the evening meal taegether, and mayhap another dance.”

Alistair nodded. He watched as she stepped through the throng of assembled clansmen and clanswomen, until she almost melted into the dancing shadows of the more distant fire.

Spirits, Fair Folk and Powers that be… keep her safe and healthy, I pray ye.

Niamh was careful to stay close to the revels, even as she searched out the privacy of the far side of the bonfire to perform her yearly ritual. She had seen the child Ewan had brought to Alistair and had no desire to tempt fate. When she was certain she had enough privacy not to be overheard, though she was still close enough that the clanfolk would hear her cry out if something happened, she stopped and drew forth her letters.

Her father’s letter, she cast in first. It was his after all, and he would be saying his own prayers in regard to its contents, at the Samhain bonfire a fortnight away.

She started to toss her own letter after it, but something stayed her hand. A sense that words needed to be spoken, not merely written and burned.

“Maither… I hope ye’re listening. ‘Tis been a strange time, o’ late, as I’m sure ye ken. Faither sent me tae marry Laird MacDuff, and I thought I would hate it. But I’ve found kinfolk here, like the healer Catriona, who is me cousin, and her husband and son. I’ve found friends as well. And… there’s Alistair.”

She took a deep breath. “Och Maither, I never kent how ye could leave yer clan and yer kin behind tae wed Faither, nor how ye braved the dangers o’ havin’ me, tae give him happiness. But Alistair… he’s kind and gentle and warm. He offers me respect, and he cares fer me so… Maither, I…’

She swallowed hard. “Maither, I ken he intended it tae be a marriage o’ convenience, tae secure aid, and I thought I could feel the same. But I cannae. I cannae at all. Fer all I never intended it tae happen, I think… I think I have fallen in love with Alistair.”

A moment later, she shook her head. “Nay. I ken I’ve fallen in love with him. With his passion, with his principles, his strengths and all his weaknesses, flaws and all. If he died taemorrow, I wouldnae ever wish tae be wed again. Rather, I’d be a widow until the end o’ me days, I love him so. At first, I couldnae imagine a life with him. Now I cannae… I dinnae wish tae… imagine a life without him.”

She wet her lips. “Is this how ye felt when ye wed Faither? If so, then I understand everything now.” She took her letter again. “I hope ye can hear me, Maither, and that ye’ll give me and Alistair yer blessing, wherever ye are.”

With that, she tossed the second letter into the fire. It was a more eloquent version of the words she’d spoken, but just as heartfelt. She watched it burn, then turned to rejoin her husband.