Page 12 of Only a Highlander Will Do

“Nay,” Tormod said. Orrick raised an eyebrow and Tormod glared at him. “Nay,” he repeated. “I am protecting her from a violent future. She will wed me and join this clan in order to save her life.”

“What if she refuses to say the vows? For she must say them aloud and witnesses must hear her speak her troth to wed you.”

“She’ll say the words willingly, for I intend to woo her for the next three days.”

Orrick laughed. “Woo her? And with a time limit nonetheless? Honestly, Brother, do you know anything about women?”

“And you are suddenly an expert?” Tormod said.

“It doesn’t take an expert to see that that woman would rather stab you than kiss you.” Orrick turned to look at Fiona. “But then again, I think you might enjoy that challenge. You never were one for docile women, if I recall.”

He’d already taken a kiss from her delicate lips. Was a blade in the chest soon to follow? Tormod’s gaze followed Orrick’s. Jealousy heated his blood as Tormod took in the blossom of colour in Fiona’s cheeks as she gazed up at Callum. Tormod’s hands fisted a moment before he forced them to relax. “Then you also know I don’t give up easily.” The great hall was no place for fighting. He drew a deep breath and calmed his mind as he often did before a battle. He returned his gaze to his brother.

“Nay, you do not yield easily.” Orrick’s features instantly sobered and an empty, haunted look entered his eyes.

Orrick was remembering the time they fought side by side in the West Indies. They’d joined the conflict between Britain and Spain in order to escape Scotland and their father’s dominance of their lives. Once there, they’d had entirely different experiences as mercenaries. Orrick had not come back the same person who had left the shores of Loch Dunvegan, but then neither had he.

Tormod reached out and placed a hand on Orrick’s arm, bringing his brother back to the present. “By marrying the girl I am trying to avoid another senseless war.”

“Or you will start one,” Orrick countered.

“Once the girl and I are wed I will release the MacDonald men, unharmed. And you and I both know Alastair will find a way to smooth all this over, as he always does. By the end of the week we could be signing a peace agreement with the MacDonalds.”

Orrick stared at him, his mouth agape. “Did you hit your head in the forest?”

“Nay.” Tormod brought his hand up to smooth the back of his perfectly normal head. “Why?”

“Because those are the most delusional words I’ve ever heard you utter. The fires of the war between our two clans are now stoked and a blaze will soon emerge over who possesses this girl, just you wait and see.”

Tormod set his jaw. “If it comes to that, then I will be ready and eager to end this dispute once and for all. Can I count on you to join me?” Only minutes apart in age, and neither of them being the first born, there had always been a bond between the two of them. They had always protected each other’s backs both in and out of battle. Loyalty to each other had been forged at birth. But somehow, Tormod knew in this moment, that loyalty was about to be tested.

“I’m not sure I can ever fight with the intent to kill again,” Orrick admitted, and Tormod saw the ghosts of the past in his brother’s brown eyes.

“If you were attacked. Would you defend yourself?” Tormod asked, alarmed at his brother’s confession. Was it the attack on the village and Orrick’s failure to save more than he had that made his brother want to lay down his sword?

“Aye. I would defend myself and those we love. But to be the aggressor again, I am not so certain.”

Tormod wanted to explore the subject more deeply, but their cook, Mrs Honey, and several of her kitchen helpers entered the chamber, announcing supper. The two brothers were forced to join the others who had already started to gather at the long table at the front of the room. None of their men who dined with the family were present. As Tormod took his seat beside Fiona, he frowned and asked, “Where are the others? Are they not joining us for supper?”

Alastair smiled at his wife. “Gwendolyn thought perhaps a more intimate meal might make Fiona feel more welcome. Mrs Honey and her staff will serve the men in the newly restored barracks tonight. It was time to break out the long tables anyway as we start our preparations for the Samhain celebration and our collective birthdays.”

“The three of you were born on Samhain?” Fiona asked as though startled by the revelation.

“Aye,” Tormod replied. Did she fear the Samhain for the same reasons he did? He loved the celebratory moments of Samhain but was uneasy about the other-worldly aspects so many others enjoyed. Ghosts and fairies were already a part of the MacLeods’ everyday lives. They did not need to seek out any more possible encounters as the barrier between the physical world and the spirit and fairy worlds broke down.

As if his thoughts had conjured her up, a frothy grey mist entered through the doorway and crept closer. The mist coalesced into the shape of a woman, her image growing more solid until finally she stood beside where Alastair and Gwendolyn sat. No one truly knew when or why their mother’s ghost appeared to them, but she seemed to come without fail when one of the castle residents were in need.

Who was in need now? Did their mother fear for Fiona like she had Gwendolyn? Tormod frowned. Gwendolyn’s attacker had been inside the castle walls. Since then the castle had been secured. The MacDonalds could not reach Fiona while she remained inside.

Tormod’s frown deepened. If not Fiona, was the person in need their mother?

Samhain. The thinned barrier to the spirit world. The thoughts raced through his mind in rapid succession. Tormod’s gaze connected with Alastair’s, then Orrick’s, as the three of them must have had similar thoughts. Was the need that brought her forth her own? Would their mother be able to pass back to the spirit world on Samhain now that all her children were together again? Their mother’s appearance had become less ethereal and more solid since their arrival home. Did that indicate that she would soon be ready to leave them for good?

“A ghost?” Fiona’s voice brought Tormod back to the moment. He turned to the woman beside him. Her features held no fear, only curiosity.

“I had hoped to put off this moment until after we were wed three days hence,” Tormod said, his voice heavy with regret. “Fiona, allow me to introduce you to my mother, Janet MacLeod. She has haunted this castle since her death eight years ago.”

Chapter Five