Page 5 of Highlander's Wild Lass
Anthony nodded, unsure if this was a rhetorical question, but gave an answer regardless. “Since we were bairns.”
“Ah, well, then ye ken her character.”
“Aye,” he said slowly. He and Celestia had spent more time together than he had with any other child in the castle, aside from his own sister and Sebastian when he came to live with his aunt, Mrs. Duncan.
Brannan adjusted himself and pulled the covers close. “As much as I would love to see the two of ye together and my family well taken care of before I leave this earth, ye won’t be gettin’ my blessin’ until ye can get one outta her.”
2
“Celestia has a mind of her own,” Mr. McLean told Anthony. “I willnae make it up for her.”
“True enough, sir,” Anthony said, extending his hand to Mr. McLean, who grasped and firmly shook it with a strength that surprised him. “I’m up for the challenge. I promise, to the end of my days, even if she doesnae agree, I’ll take care yer family.”
A knock on the door interrupted Anthony before he could thank the man. Celestia, followed by the twins, entered the room. Anthony had to admit that Celestia had grown into a bonnie lass with her slight build and rosy, graceful face. He wished he could step forward and run a finger over the line of her cheekbones.
“Apologies for the intrusion, but we’ve already had to reheat lunch,” Celestia said, glancing briefly at Anthony with pursed lips.
“And tripled-heated porridge doesnae taste very nice,” Hugo said glumly, going to their father to help him out of bed.
“Yer right, Hugo, it doesnae,” Mr. McLean said with a thin smile.
“Of course, I’ll take my leave. But first let me build up the fire and then I’ll see myself out. It’s the least I could do for showin’ up unannounced,” Anthony said as he stood, replacing the armchair where he found it.
“If ye wish—” Mr. McLean started.
“Absolutely na—"
Celestia’s glare was cold, but there was a curious look playing on her face. “I’ll tend to it, m’laird. I’m sure ye have much to do today.”
“Please, Cellie, let the man do it. It’s nae often yer chief offers to build a simple clansman’s fire,” Mr. McLean said before directing Chester to grab his cane.
“Fine, if that’s what ye wish,” she said, turning on her heel and disappearing from the bedroom.
Anthony grabbed an armful of firewood that was piled against the side of the stone fireplace, knelt on the floor, and began assembling the wood.
“Yer visit was much appreciated,” Mr. McLean said as he made his way to the doorway, leaning on his cane with his two sons behind him in case he stumbled. “And very good luck to ye.”
“Thank ye, sir,” he said as Mr. McLean and the boys left the room.
Anthony built the fire quickly with nimble hands once he was left alone, his mind filled with a thousand thoughts of the conversation between himself and Mr. McLean. Not in several lifetimes did he think he would be asking for a blessing to marry Celestia McLean. She was a difficult woman that frustrated him greatly.
They had never agreed on much if anything at all, but he would be damned if he watched a fine family go to ruin. And he did have to admit that having a wife would take away some pressure his cousins and older sister were putting on him to settle down. He either needed to produce an heir or appoint one of his young cousins as future chief. And with Celestia’s fine features and exquisite hips, she would make a perfect mother to his children.
He stood to grab the firebox from the mantle, attempting to shake the images of what Celestia would be like in bed, and stopped when he saw the layer of dust and soot accumulated on and around the rough metal box. He swiped a finger through the grime, then quickly brushed it away on his trews.
Anthony pulled the piece of flint and steel striker from the box and knelt once again. It took a few strikes to get the kindling and wood to catch, but soon enough there was a roaring fire ready and waiting for Mr. McLean after he was through with lunch.
He stood and made his way through the front door, but not before hearing the conversation and laughter coming from the back garden. He felt an ache in his heart, missing the times when he, his mother, father, and sister used to sit at meals and laugh.
“How did it go?” his man-at-arms Sebastian asked, handing him his horse’s reins.
“As good as I thought it would, but at least old McLean knows my intentions,” Anthony said, climbing into the saddle.
Sebastian laughed as he also mounted his horse, securing his feet in the stirrups.
With a faint chinking of bridles, they made their way down the dirt path to the main road. The leaves on the oak trees were finally starting to bud, following the aspen and hawthorn trees whose fresh green leaves fluttered in the light wind.
“I cannae see why she is the one ye have yer heart set on,” Sebastian said. “She never says a kind thing to ye. And I didnae think ye really had a soft spot for her either.”
