Page 50 of Heirs and Graces at Highland Hall
‘Tonight is to be a night to remember, but also to look forward,’ Kieron said. ‘Not just to my future, as laird, but to the future here at Highland Hall. A future I am sure you will all play no small part in.’
As the table raised their glasses for the second toast of the evening, the future, Bex couldn’t help but wonder what Fergus would’ve said if he were here. Kieron was certainly more loquacious than the old laird had been. In fact, she struggled to imagine how Fergus would even begin a toast. Not to mention, in all the time she had known him, she could only ever recall seeing him in his wax jacket and flannel shirts. The thought of him in a suit was almost enough to make her chuckle. Still, she clinked her glass against those next to her, took another sip of her drink and waited for the remainder of Kieron’s speech.
‘Now there are many people I have to thank for bringing this night together under such short notice,’ Kieron continued, ‘and I will get to those names in a moment. But first, there is someone I would like to thank on a more personal level. Someone who went above and beyond. Rebecca Barker.’
As the eyes of the room turned to her, Bex felt her cheeks colour.
‘I am sure that all of you who are local to the village will recall what an extraordinary job she did helping my uncle here. And, fingers crossed’ – his eyes met hers, that twinkle brighter and bolder than she had ever seen before – ‘she will continue to help me in my role here, too. To Rebecca.’
‘To Rebecca!’
A chorus of cheers erupted, echoing her name. Bex wished she could shrink into her seat, and trying to keep her smile in place, she raised her glass. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been toasted before. At work, maybe, and on her birthday, but never like this. But as much as she wished she could cower away, she knew that would help nothing. And so she met Kieron’s gaze with the best smile she could muster.
As the cheers died down and Kieron continued with his list of thanks, the journalist next to her leaned in.
‘God, what I wouldn’t give to have him look at me like that,’ she said quietly. ‘You are one lucky woman to be tapping that.’
‘We’re not… we’re not…’ Bex stammered. ‘There’s nothing going on. I’ve just been helping him with some finance things.’
‘Oh, sure.’ The woman smirked. ‘It’s all platonic, of course. That’s why he’s encouraging everyone to join your accountancy firm. It’s your skills, right?’ She air-quoted the last word.
Bex’s jaw tightened. ‘It’s probably because I’m a bloody good accountant,’ she replied coolly, deciding she’d talk to the police chief for the rest of the meal, even if the bushiness of his eyebrows was somewhat distracting.
A few minutes later, the toasts were done, and Kieron was finally finishing up his speech.
‘So I know we’ve got lots of hungry people here,’ he said, the glass in his hand almost empty. ‘And lots of talented people in great voice, who want to sing for us. So, with no further ado, I’d like to start us off with the “Selkirk Grace”.’
40
Bex was more than surprised when, after the small but poignant ‘Selkirk Grace’, the pipe music resumed and people rose to their feet and began clapping.
‘What’s happening?’ she hissed to Yohan.
‘They’re Piping in the Haggis,’ he replied.
The haggis? Bex craned her head to see where the music was coming from, and it was only when the piper came into view that Bex realised he wasn’t alone. He was indeed followed by a small woman, who was carrying a silver platter on which sat several large haggises.
A round of applause filled the room, gradually turning into louder rhythmic clapping, which only ceased when a loud cheer erupted as the haggises were ceremoniously placed on the table.
‘Now, I shall read “Address to a Haggis”,’ Kieron announced.
‘He’s going to read a poem to a haggis?’ The journalist beside Bex gawped.
‘Yes,’ Bex said curtly, ignoring the fact that she, too, had been more than a little surprised by this.
It was hard to take her eyes off Kieron as he spoke. He really was magnificent in the role of laird, and as he recited the RobertBurns poem, with his voice commanding and full of expression, a wide grin filled his face. The type of grin she’d rarely seen him share in the castle. Perhaps things had changed after she’d kissed him, not that she wanted to think too deeply about that. This smile reminded her far more of the man she had met at the airport.
When he finished, a hearty round of applause followed, and more toasts were raised. This time to the haggis itself.
Bex doubted she’d ever toast food again after this day, and yet the moment felt phenomenal. The mood was celebratory, almost wedding-like, and the food was delicious. So much so that somewhere during the meal, she forgot that she hadn’t wanted to talk to the journalist, and happily listened to her prattle on about thevibeof various other places she’d visited.
They started with cock-a-leekie soup, followed by haggis, neeps and tatties. For dessert, there was a tipsy laird, which Bex learned was a trifle drenched in alcohol. By the time the meal ended, Bex was feeling more than a little merry after all the wine she’d consumed, but whether it was because of the atmosphere, or because she’d only had one proper walk in days, she found herself desperate to keep going. To soak up every moment of the magnificent night.
She had just reached over to fill her glass when Kieron once again rose. There was no doubt he liked this part of the lairdship. The role of the host suited him. Maybe he didn’t know much about the village or the land, but that could come with time. If he made enough of an effort.
‘I hope you’ve enjoyed my food and hospitality,’ he said, his cheeks slightly flushed with a hue of drink. ‘But the evening isn’t over yet. Please, dance, sing and have fun!’
Bex didn’t need to be told twice and as she turned about in her chair, she saw Lorna already grabbing Eilidh and pulling herinto the ballroom to dance. Ready to join them, she stood up, only to find her path blocked.
