Chapter 36
Ailsa spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped up in her cocoon of blankets, listening to Harris read ghost stories. She wasn’t sure if this was the right reading material for nursing someone, but she was glad it wasn’t a book of faerie tales. She’d had enough of those for a while.
“It is said that if you walk over his grave, his ghost will appear and challenge you to a fight. If you stand your ground and accept, he fades away without harming you. However, if you refuse, he will chase you through the glen and you’ll never be seen again.”
“I liked that one.” She watched his fingers as he flicked through the next few pages. “Are ghosts real, Harris?” She felt stupid for asking but she wasn’t taking anything for granted anymore. Plus, it was much easier to talk about ghosts when it was the middle of the day and she was cosy in front of a fire.
“Never met one, but I don’t see why not,” he answered absently while choosing the next story. “Everything else is real.”
Ailsa hugged her blankets tighter. “Useful to know. Next time, I’ll make sure there are no spirits around before I take my clothes off.”
“Those naughty ghosts!” he chuckled. “To be fair, I know that if I had to spend eternity walking this earth, I’d want to see women in states of undress—”
She gave him a shove with her foot. “You’d be a poltergeist. As annoying in death as you were in life.”
“That’s it,” he said snootily as he opened the book to a new page. “I’ll haunt you forever. Now hush, I’m going to read you a sad one.”
He waited until she settled back then cleared his throat dramatically.
“A few hundred years ago, the Lord of Kelliedun’s daughter—”
“Does she not have a name of her own?” Ailsa cut in.
“Fine,” sighed Harris. “Her name was… Mildred. So, Mildred was walking through her garden one day when she met a young man. I suppose you want a name for him too? Well, he can be Hamish. Anyway, Mildred met Hamish, the gardener, tending to the tiny, ivory blooms that grew between the larger plants. Seeing her, he cut off one of the stems and gave it to her.
‘Such a fragile flower,’ she remarked.
The young man nodded. ‘When winter has killed everything, this flower still grows; the only flower to grow. It gives us hope that spring will come again. Though it is small, it provides beauty where otherwise there is none.’
Touched by the man’s story, she visited him again the next day, and the day after that. After a month of meetings, he produced the wee blossom again. ‘My love is everlasting, like this flower. Will you marry me?’ he asked.”
Ailsa scoffed. “After a month?” She was having quite a lot of fun interrupting Harris’s story, mainly because he was getting increasingly annoyed.
Serves him right.
Harris gave her a withering look. “It’s romantic,” he stated before continuing with the story. “The girl—Mildred—immediately said yes and went to tell her father. But he refused the marriage when he found out that the boy was a simple gardener. He told her the boy was just looking for money.
When Mildred looked for him again, her mother told her that Hamish had left. But really he’d been imprisoned in one of the towers. The girl knew that her love would never leave her, so she decided to wait for him all night in the garden. There was an early frost that evening, and when they found her in the morning, she had frozen to death, clutching a tiny, ivory flower.
When the boy learned what had happened, he jumped from the tower, hoping he would be reunited in death with his love.
Now the two haunt the castle, the girl’s ghost in the gardens and the boy in the tower. It has since been abandoned. They say that if the garden is tended to again, and the white flowers bloom, their souls will finally be at peace.”
She blinked at him as he put the book down. “That was depressing.” Now she didn’t feel like joking.
Harris placed the book on the small table beside them. “It’s supposed to be a poignant love story, Ailsa.”
“Do people like stuff like that?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes, people are usually moved by tales of tragic romance.”
“Why do people like to be sad? What’s the point? Life is already sad enough.”
He fixed her with an unreadable gaze, which had her shrinking back into her pillows. For a moment, he just stared at her. Finally, he wiped his hand over his face.
“Maybe it reminds them not to waste what they have.” He met her eyes again. “To fight for love.”
She squirmed under his watch, feeling uncomfortable. Whenever he looked at her like that, she felt out of her depth.
“Maybe I’d better get some sleep. I’m still not feeling great.”
“Yeah, we need you fighting fit for the dance floor.” He scoffed, leaning down then, over the bed. Her heart pounded. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Sweet dreams. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. He flashed a half-grin before leaving her alone in the candlelight.
Ailsa thought briefly about calling him back in. For what, she couldn’t admit to herself. She picked up the discarded book and flipped it open at the picture from the last story.
Chapter 37
“I like it.” Ailsa twirled slowly in her borrowed dress, giving Flora a better view.
From over in the corner, Angus lifted his head from examining a fiddle the band had left and gave her a nod. “You look lovely.”
“Pfft.” Harris’s lips curled. He lounged on a plump chair beside the main fireplace, one leg thrown over the arm, chewing on a chicken leg. A spread had been laid out for the guests and he’d promptly plundered it. He gnawed on the meat aggressively, throwing glares at everyone in the room. It seemed he hadn’t slept well the night before, having to share a room with a sleep-talking band member. Harris had become even more sulky when Angus had mentioned to Ailsa that there would be plenty of young men at the ceilidh, suggesting they ‘help each other.’
“What is your problem?” Ailsa stopped her spinning and stuck her hip out. His eyes followed the movement before rolling towards the ceiling.
“I just don’t think the dress suits you.”
“Why not? It’s nice.” The gown she’d borrowed was crisp and white, with delicate sleeves that floated around her arms and fluttered when she spun. The skirt began just under her bust, fanning out in a tumble of lace, barely brushing the floor so she was free to dance. Flora had also given her a pair of slippers which were slightly too small.
“You look too—” His lip curled as he tried to find the right word. “Pure,” he finally grumbled.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice rose an octave and she bit the inside of her cheek in frustration. Is he trying to pick a fight?
“I don’t know,” he answered, glowering. “Maybe I’m too used to you looking murderous. I think I prefer that, actually.”
“Enough,” Angus chided. “Ailsa, you look wonderful. Tell him to go boil his heid.” The prince beamed, happy with his impression of a common accent.
“Fine. I’m taking this,” Harris stood, snatching another chicken leg, “And this.” He grabbed his tankard of ale. “I’m going to get ready.”
“Don’t bother coming back till you’ve cheered up.” Ailsa yelled after him as he stomped up the stairs.
“Men,” chuckled Angus, “I’ll never understand them.”
When Harris knocked on her door later, she almost slammed it in his face. But he had brought her a pastry by way of apology and her growling stomach convinced her otherwise.
“I think people are starting to arrive. Do you want to come downstairs?” he asked. He had borrowed a kilt from someone and it was a little too short, showing off his hairy knees. The freckles on them caught Ailsa’s eyes for a moment until he bowed and she had to worry about his modesty.
“If there are guests,
it means I get to start eating, yeah?”
Harris held out an arm for her, his eyes twinkling. She gave a sigh. It was too hard to be peeved with him for very long.
“Where’s Angus?”
“He wasn’t in his room, so probably at the party already?”
“Have you made up then?”
“Yes,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry, Ailsa.” He stopped her at the top of the stairs. His eyes baleful as he continued, “I just don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
She shrugged, willing her cheeks not to colour. “I’m sure you would get over it. You got on fine before you knew me…”
His hand cupped the side of her face. “I didn’t know what I was missing.” He stared at her a moment, before breaking into a grin. “Right, let’s go. Food. Beer. Dancing.”
Arriving in the main hall, they found the band already warming up and the chatter from the guests filling the room up to the rafters. Drinks flowed and eyes were bright.
“There must be at least a hundred people.”
She spied Angus in the corner and gave him a wave. He smiled and continued to chat with the musicians as he eyed a fiddle one of them was holding. The man laughed and clapped Angus on the back before handing it to him. He grinned exultantly and lifted it to show her that he was joining the band for a while. Ailsa’s affection for the man bubbled into a laugh. It was nice to see him happy after all his worrying.
Ailsa angled her body so it was behind Harris’s as they looked for a place to sit. With every step, she felt eyes upon her, but there were none of the usual uttered curses or shouts. Her ears burned in shyness as Harris led her through the throngs towards a table at the back. The people at the neighbouring the tables glanced at them nervously, but Harris didn’t even seem to notice. Ailsa sipped her beer quietly and kept her hair curtained over her face.
After a while, he gave her a nudge. “Want to dance, oh fearsome one?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the crowd.
“Not right now,” she said, expecting Harris to relax back into his chair. When Ailsa glanced back at him, she saw that he was becoming restless.
“Are you okay if I go up?” he said.
“Oh, yeah, I’ll see you in a bit.”
He grinned as he rose and, without looking back, strode to the dance floor. Immediately, he was surrounded by enthusiastic partners. He spun each woman eagerly, swinging energetically in time to the music.
Ailsa knocked back the rest of her pint.
Chapter 38
Within an hour, the floor was packed with bodies. There was little room to do the steps, so the dances had become a writhing, uncoordinated mass. The sun had properly set now, generating shadows in the corners which some people were already making use of. In response to the rising temperature indoors, the front door had been flung open to reveal a few stars peeking out in between wisps of cloud.
Flora perched on a tall stool beside the fireplace, with two older girls that could only have been her sisters. They waved when they saw Ailsa looking, she nodded back and sank further into her chair.
Harris danced with almost every woman in the building. He was certainly popular. As she watched his progress across the dancefloor, Ailsa had been stuffing her face full of sweet cakes. A couple times, he’d caught her eye and attempted to excuse himself from the throng, only to find another young lady begging him for a turn.
And, of course, he couldn’t refuse. Ailsa swigged her drink bitterly.
She should never have agreed to come to the ceilidh. Shouldn’t they be back on the road already? The sooner that they reached got the Stone, the sooner she could be back home. How could Harris be enjoying himself at a time like this, when Eilanmòr was counting on them? She longed to be moving or doing something useful.
The musicians paused for a short break, shouting to the crowd to bring them food and ale. Angus appeared in front of her, breathing hard.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m having a fantastic time.”
He frowned at the sarcasm in her voice and at the empty plates piled beside her chair.
“Have you been sitting here alone all night? Where’s Harris?”
“Off having fun.”
He pulled up a chair beside her. They sat in silence for a while, watching the crowd mingle and laugh. Finally, Ailsa mumbled something incomprehensible under her breath.
“What was that?” Angus asked. She knew it was a bid to get her to talk. How does he know me so well after a week?
She huffed and spoke a little louder. “I said, I don’t understand that man.”
Angus nodded. “He is a mystery.”
“One minute, he’s watching over me in my sleep and the next… it’s like, if there’s another woman in the room he forgets all about me.”
“Not to mention,” said Angus. “He gets jealous every time I speak to you, although I think after our heart-to-heart the other day, he’s less concerned.” They watched as Harris picked up one of the girls he was speaking to, showing how strong he was. The females around him tittered and the one in his arms went bright red.
Ailsa sighed. “I just wish he would make up his mind. Are we friends? Does he just like to flirt with me?”
Angus leaned closer to her. “The question is: what do you want?”
She threw her hands up. “I don’t know. To be honest, if he wasn’t making me feel like he liked me, I don’t know if I would have thought about it.” She studied Harris’s profile for a moment, taking in his straight nose and mischievous smile. “I guess I do think he’s attractive.”
Angus grabbed her hand. “Harris is my friend and I like him a lot. He’s the sort of person you could have a lot of fun with, who’ll always have your back and try to do what’s right. I just think he’s easily distracted. Maybe for the right girl, he’d stop fooling around but I’d say, guard your heart. You’re special, Ailsa, and if a man can’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you.”
She dipped her head and closed her eyes. “Thanks, Angus. You know, I think this is what still having a brother would be like.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. They sat like that for a while before he finally pulled away.
“Look after yourself,” he murmured. “The band are looking for me and someone is coming to speak to you.”
She straightened in her chair and watched as Angus strode towards the stage again, meeting Harris in the middle of the room. The two men patted each other on the shoulders as they passed. Angus took up his fiddle and joined in the next song. Harris weaved his way towards her.
He sat down beside her, still scanning the dancers as they cheered.
“Having fun?” asked Ailsa sullenly. With a pang, she missed Iona and her large high heels. At least she hadn’t abandoned her at the last party they’d attended.
He fixed her with a grin. “You need to learn to relax, Ailsa.” He was sweating from his lively dancing, his white shirt plastered to his body.
“I brought you a drink,” he said, laughing like it was a secret joke. She snatched the glass from him and downed the liquid in one go, coughing as the wine hit the back of her throat. Harris let out a gasping laugh. Ailsa handed the glass back to him, avoiding his gaze. His face sidled into her line of sight as he tried to make her look at him.
“Dance with me?” he asked with a pout.
Still playing one of his games.
“I’d rather not,” she grunted. “In fact, I don’t even know if I can in this dress. It looks pretty but it’s a bit tight. And hot.” She pulled at the long flowing fabric angrily.
He knelt in front of her, brushing the skirt of the dress with a finger. “You look amazing.”
“But you said earlier—”
“I know, and I’m sorry. You’re… stunning,” he said, most of his flippant tone gone. Ailsa couldn’t help the blush that crept up her cheeks.
Stupid idiot, she thought. I should know better than to be tricked by his words like the other girls in this room.
&nb
sp; She harrumphed, doing her best to appear vexed. “I am not dancing; there are too many people. Besides,” she crossed her arms, “Your friends will be back soon to coo over you.”
Harris frowned at her, but the wicked glint was back in his eyes. Before she could protest, he had swept her up over his shoulder.
“Harris!” she screeched. “This is no way to treat a lady.”
“Just as well you aren’t one, then,” he snarked. “Come on, I have a solution to our problems.” He carried her out of the building as she half-heartedly punched his back. They emerged into the cool night air and, for once, it was not raining.
Ailsa stopped struggling as he led her further away from the building. One of his hands brushed her bare ankle and she gasped. He seemed to pause in his steps, before striding over to a patch of grass. Harris slid her out of his arms, her body gliding against his until she reached the ground. He held her waist with one hand and offered the other to her.
“Dance with me?” he repeated, eyes twinkling.
She considered him for a moment, her heart beating to the rhythm of the music. It did feel nice to be outside and she had been watching him dance for so long now that she might as well try it. Perhaps it was the wine, but she was starting to feel giddy and forgot all her aches and pains. Finally, in a show of bravado, she rolled her eyes and slipped her hand into his own.
When she kicked her shoes off to the side, his face split into a beaming smile.
Without warning, he began spinning her to the reel. Her limbs flailed clumsily at first as she tried to follow his lead. His steps were light as he swept her round in circles and she caught his familiar scent of sea salt and citrus.
The Stone of Destiny Page 15