Page 42 of The Devil in Plaid
His words brought tears to her eyes. She looked up at him, struck by the hope she glimpsed in his own gaze. Then, she looked out over the room. No one moved or spoke. She held her breath. Suddenly, an older woman with a gnarled back stood up at one of the tables near the front. One by one, people began to stand, and then more people joined. Somewhere in the back, someone began to clap.
“Stand with me,” he said, drawing her gaze. She took a deep breath and nodded, slipping her hand in his. When they stood together as husband and wife, the room erupted into cheers. Her heart swelled. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she smiled through them as she looked at the people now applauding her. The same joy which burst within her heart, she saw on the face of every man, woman, and child in the hall. And she knew in that moment, that they cheered not only to honor the wishes of their laird or to welcome her into their clan—they cheered for the hope Jamie had given to them: hope for peace. She turned to look at him, struck by the admiration she suddenly felt in her heart, for she knew he had done what a laird was meant to do. He had raised his people up—her included.
“Thank ye,” she whispered.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. “Thank ye,” he responded. Then he helped her sit before claiming the seat beside her. “I was detained, forgive me.”
She smiled. “There is naught to forgive.” She squeezed his hand, her heart full.
“Ye must be half starved,” he said, reaching for a bannock which he tore in half.
She met his tender gaze and accepted the offered bread. “I am,” she admitted before taking a bite, savoring the flavor and warmth. She looked at him sidelong.
“What is it?” he asked, smiling. “I feel there is something ye wish to say to me.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Ye look different. Yer hair is lighter than I thought. ‘Tis golden, and yer face…I mean…ye’re…so…”
His smiled widened. “Ye mean I don’t look like a filthy barbarian?”
She laughed. “Aye, that is exactly what I mean.”
“Thank God, ye two have resolved yer differences,” Matthew interjected. “Because his stench was beginning to turn my stomach.”
She turned to face Jamie. “Wait. Were ye refusing to bathe just to get under my skin.”
He shrugged and popped a piece of bannock in his mouth. His cheeky grin was answer enough.
Fiona gazed out over the full trencher tables. There was an ease about the room now. Many people had turned their attention to the high table, but the animosity had fled their expressions. Now, they eyed her with curiosity. She smiled, wanting to show them that she was a kind and honorable lady. In return, several of Jamie’s kin smiled back.
“Ye’ve championed me,” she said, turning to look at her husband. “Thank ye.”
He smiled down at her. “Had my opinion of ye not changed, I still would have championed ye today. As yer husband, ‘tis my duty to protect ye, whether from my clan or even from yerself.” His lips curved in a sideways smile that made her knees weak. “My speech would have been different, however, had we not reconciled as we did last night.”
“I awoke this morrow, and for a moment, I feared it had all been a dream. I cannot wait for Esme and Abby to arrive so that I can tell them ye’re not the devil we believed ye to be.”
“Yer maids fear me as well?”
Fiona nodded. “Every MacDonnell maid has been taught to fear the MacLeod men. I can remember having nightmares about yer sire as a child.”
Jamie shook his head. “Like my grandfather, my da was a fierce warrior, but he was a gentle father and a loving husband.”
“My maids will need convincing.” She glanced at the doors anxious for their coming. “Is there still no word on their progress?”
“I have sent out riders to track them and report back to me. I would expect them no later than tomorrow. Remember, their way is a difficult one for wagons.”
She felt her heart quicken. “I pray they will not encounter the trouble we endured.”
Jamie squeezed her hand, wanting to soothe away her worries. But her reminder of their attack set his thoughts racing. For the life of him, he could not reason how Ranulf MacKenzie had known his course home. Matthew had already pointed out that it was likely the MacKenzie warriors had spotted them by chance and circled around them to get in front of their path, but Jamie was unconvinced. Despite the logic of Matthew’s council, he could not help but believe that someone had betrayed their route to the enemy. But whom?
