Page 68 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

He turned his head to the pillow and seized her in his arms again.

“I’ll nae forget, lass.”

They slept the sleep of lovers who, for the first time, were together in a large feather bed, covered with warm linen and fur quilts, with a blazing fire in the hearth to ensure when they awoke, naked, the chill of winter did not concern them.

They were finally awakened by a knock at the door and when called “Enter,” a cavalcade of scullery maids trooped in bearing covered containers of soups and stews, trays of oatbreads and bannocks, cheeses and nuts and flagons of mead to wash down their feast. These were laid on a table near the fire

After placing her urn on the table, the first maid dropped a curtsy.

“Lady MacLeod thought ye were tired from yer travels and would prefer tae rest in yer chamber and nae share their meal in the great hall.”

Maxwell nodded his thanks and the maids trooped out again.

Discovering they were ravenously hungry, Maxwell and Aileen wrapped themselves in their cloaks and took their seats by the groaning table, before the fire.

“Me sister is so thoughtful,” having savored every last mouthful of his serving of venison stew Maxwell licked his fingers and wiped them on an embroidered linen napkin.

Aileen, who was placing butter and jam on a bannock, took a sip of mead and smiled up at him. “I am almost able tae forget what it was like as we almost froze in the Torridon Hills in a dank cave.”

He slid a lock of her hair behind her shoulder. “It wasnae all bad though, me sweetness. There were moments…”

She sighed. “Aye many moments where I was happier than I’d ever been. Despite an empty belly and me feet and hands near frozen off.”

He took her hand. “I say the same, Aileen. Fer all the hardship, and the thought we may nae have lived another day, ‘twas a happy time.” He pressed her hand to his lips. “Thanks tae yer company.” A chuckled bubbled up. “Although there were times ye were more trouble than a hatfull of mice.”

She swiped him with her napkin. “Me. Trouble? Ye’re the most difficult of men.”

“Because I dinnae obey yer every whim?”

She laughed. “Mayhap.” Then she reached up and kissed him.

Next morning, they were wakened by the housekeeper, Mildred. Aileen shrugged on her cape and went to the door.

“Milady.” She curtseyed. “The lassies will be here wi’ something fer ye tae break yer fast.” She craned her neck, casting her eyes beyond Aileen where Maxwell had risen from the bed and was fastening his kilt.

“I thank ye, Mildred.” Aileen went to close the door but Mildred raised a hand. “The Lady and milord MacLeod are wishing ye to join them in the solar as soon as ye are able. There’s news they wish tae discuss.”

Aileen’s stomach plummeted. She thanked Mildred and once the door had closed behind her she turned to Maxwell, bile rising in her throat.

“The news must be bad if your sister and Arne are wishing tae meet wi’ us.”

He shook his head, seemingly unperturbed. Yet she knew he would be every bit as concerned as she was.

She hurried across to the garderobe and busied herself with dressing with one of the gowns Raven had mentioned the day before. Donning a dark green velvet kirtle, she combed out her hair and braided it before joining him by the fire.

“Me appetite has fled,” she said, as a kitchen maid entered with a tray. Nevertheless, Maxwell offered her a bannock, taking one for himself.

“Well then, let us make haste to the solar so we can find whether the news is good or bad.”

He seemed unbothered and Aileen wondered if he really wasn’t worried or just pretending to be calm for her sake. He brushed off the crumbs, ran fingers through his dark hair and reached a hand to help her to her feet.

When they entered the solar Arne was standing with his back to the fire and Raven was in the armchair. One look at Arne’s frowning face was enough to tell Aileen that her fears were correct. There was bad news in store.

“Sit down, sit down.” Arne joined them as they took their seats. Raven did not look up but kept her gaze on the fire.

“I take it the messengers we sent yesterday have returned with news from the Isle of Canna?”

Arne nodded. “Aye.” He turned to Raven. “It’s fer ye tae pass on the word that’s been brought from Canna.”

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