Chapter 6

Upon reentering the great hall, I saw that the troupe of players and a few singers had set themselves upon the platform that had just sealed the seven women to their fates. Father was standing beside the musicians, a jolly look on his face. With his red cheeks and glassy eyes, it was clear he was drunk — or close enough to it. I scanned the room for any hidden place I might hide myself to avoid yet another retelling of my unnatural birth. With an audience this big and his mood this vivid, there was no chance I was escaping the night without hearing the tale. My fear halted, however, feeling the warmth of Alex by my side. We exchanged timid smiles.

"Please! Let us have all the newly engaged couples come to the dance floor! Let them open the festivities with the first dance!" Father yelled, raising his cup into the air with such vigor that the wine sloshed over the sides.

The seven couples walked forward, Walther nobly leading the way with a tight, humorless smile. He held the hand of the defiant, black-eyed girl. She looked at him with loathing. Neither of them looked interested by the prospect of a dance.

"They look exceedingly unhappy," Alex remarked.

I noted that he had to bend somewhat to speak into my ear. Humming my agreement, I regarded the faces of the other couples. Their general glumness cast a pall over the allegedly joyous celebration. Only the first girl, the one whose lover had succeeded in claiming her, smiled. Scanning the room, it seemed Bess had disappeared. I didn't blame her.

"They will never make me Stand," I swore, chiefly to myself. Anger colored my words and made them fierce and defiant.

"It is a tradition I'm glad not to be beholden to," Alex agreed coolly. As a Mainlander, he was not party to our customs. He was free to court and marry as he pleased.

I tried not to blush, tried not to think of who he might want to court and marry. The issue had not seemed so pressing when we were children, but older now, and surrounded by Stood for couples, I felt its weight.

"It's barbaric," I ground out, clenching my fists.

"Perhaps," Alex replied with schooled diplomacy. A well-bred gentleman had taken control of my once irreverent friend. With a tilted head, he watched as the couples danced.

I scoffed, annoyed at his nonchalance, his serenity. Flustered by his reappearance and his confusing, uncomfortable unfamiliarity. We could have been strangers. Still, it was energizing to have someone willing to linger nearby and engage me in conversation.

"Of course you would agree," I said coldly, "men get to do the bidding."

Alex shrugged and offered me a coy smile, "Is there a rule that forbids women from doing the Standing?"

"I—" I had no idea. The rules, if any existed, had never been explained to me in any detail.

Alex grinned and laughed, "Do not fret, Eilean. I promise I will save you from any untoward engagements when the time comes."

I gaped, blinking at his words. Before I could think of anything to say in response, Alex bowed.

"I must go thank your father for extending me an invitation to the Gathering. It is very good to see you again."

Protocol trained into me by my exacting mother had me bobbing a curtsy in reply. "My father invited you? Whatever for?"

Alex shrugged again, "Of the motive I am unsure, but I am not unhappy to be here. Stormway has always felt like home." He then turned on his heel and was melting into the crowd before I could appreciate his company.

Now abandoned and reeling over his puzzling formality and turns of phrase, I returned to the head table and tried to quell the offense that I had been brushed me off so promptly. Clearly, we had grown apart. The thought troubled me. Filling a wine glass with sparkling, golden wine, I forced myself to admit that neither of us had attempted to maintain correspondence for the past three years. It was unfair to hold him to standards of childhood friendship.

I watched a few dances, my eyes blurring at the sight of the swishing skirts and trim suits until I neither saw nor heard what was happening around me. The familiar shadow of a forgotten existence crept in and the fog once more settled over my mind. I was in the room, but nowhere. Vaguely, I tracked Alex as he moved around the hall. He flitted from group to group, clapping the backs of men he would have known as a boy. Bored, I picked at the remains of a berry tart on my plate. I turned to survey the head table, empty except for myself and Ian, who sat a few chairs down. My brother smiled at me across the expanse and I put down my fork. He had caught me moping, so I turned back to the dance and feigned interest in watching. I growled in annoyance when my eyes yet again settled on Alex.

"Are you going to ask him to dance?" Ian said, sliding into the chair beside me.

I startled at my brother's words. It was stunning enough that the embarrassment of being caught was forgotten in the novelty of my second-eldest brother deigning to speak to me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You've been watching Lord Leslie for the last hour."

Astounded that I had been sitting and sulking for that long, I was eager to deflect the attention off of me. I batted Ian's own question back to him, "Do you not fancy dancing, brother?"

"Never liked it too much," he answered dryly. It was clear he was aware of my deflection. It was also the truth. Ian was a scholar, more content to read large tomes on outdated feudal laws than dance. His round glasses glinted in the flickering candlelight.

For a few minutes, we sat in comfortable silence. Ian had always been quieter and more gentle than my other brothers. While we had not shared extensive conversation, he had always been willing to pass me a handkerchief if porridge got lobbed my way during breakfast. He even inquired after my studies from time to time if we passed each other in the courtyard. Even so, he treated me with the same cordial indifference as the rest of my brothers. At twenty-five-years-old, I could understand his reticence to pay too much attention to me.

"How did you and the others get out of the Standing?" I asked, suddenly curious. "All of you. John, Rupert, Timothy. Walther is so much younger than you all."

"I don't chase scullery maids into dark corners and compromise the family lineage," Ian answered as if it were obvious.

"Oh," I said, coloring slightly. I looked down at my hands.

Ian snorted in amusement, "Lord Leslie would not be a bad conquest for you."

I glared at him.

"Why don't you ask him to dance?"

"I don't—" I started, trying to concoct some excuse. The impropriety of a woman asking a man to dance overwhelmed my outrage at his suggestion of a conquest.

"Are you a MacLeod or not?" He challenged, throwing around the type of boisterous taunt my brothers preferred to spur them into action. An attack on the family name and honor. Doubt at the presumed confidence that was expected to be inherited with our surname.

I felt myself prickle, my blood boiled. It was interesting, this challenge. Something small in my heart wanted to rise to it. Overwhelmingly, however, I felt hot and uncomfortable under Ian's scrutiny. Frowning, I turned away from his intense stare.

Quietly, Ian asked a different question. "Do ye not know your worth, lass?"

I closed my eyes, letting out a slow sigh. It was, perhaps, the only thing I knew about myself. What a prize I was, the jewel I would one day become to any Islander family who snagged me for their own. The first daughter born at Stormway in over ten generations. I was practically a myth.

"You're the only daughter of the Laird of Stormway," Ian said, infusing the words had I heard a million times with an air of wonder and mystery.

Intrigued by this change of tone, I opened my eyes and glared at him.

"I dare say half the men in this room are only here because they thought they might win your hand and dowry in the Standing tonight. And that includes Lord Leslie."

Hollowness settled low in my gut, my heartbeat thundered in my ears. There was never any new information. Ian, despite his wonder, only valued me for my breeding potential. Just like everyone else.

"Tell me something I've never heard," I said, hating this conversation.

Ian looked at me with raised brows. His glasses bobbed up and down. "Do you not know the power you wield?"

"None," I spat bitterly. "I am a woman."

"Ellesmure is the largest Island in of our confederation of nations," Ian said.

That was, in fact, something I had never heard before. But I was not about to satisfy him with a reaction.

"Have you never seen your home?" He asked gently.

I shook my head, "I've never seen a map. Or I haven't seen one since I was a child. I haven't left the castle since I was thirteen."

Swearing, Ian slammed his hand down on the table. "Fools!" He said with enough passion that a swarm of men near the table stopped their chatter and stared. "Who oversees your education?"

"Mother," I said, my mind racing. What was he getting at?

"Do you have any substantial education at all? Can you read?"

"Of course I can read," I said hotly. "I had five years of formal education when Alex was here as a ward. As a kid, sometimes Father let me watch as he settled his accounts."

"Good," Ian said, his eyes blazing. "And what did you like to study most?"

"Math," I said without hesitation. "I like the order, the cleanliness."

"And I wager Mother doesn't let you do much arithmetic."

"She is concerned, chiefly, with my ability to be a good wife and mother," I said, hearing the dead tone in my words.

"I knew you were getting a somewhat....incomplete education," Ian said, "but I had no idea it was this bad."

Shame crept up and strangled me, I could think of nothing to say. Had they had kept me ignorant by design? Had I allowed my parents to neglect my education so absolutely?

Ian studied me. When I turned my head, I met the full force of the pitying look which pulled his mouth and eyes downward. It made me want to scream.

"You were funny when you were younger. I always thought so," He said. "Brash is maybe the best word for what you were like. You were always in some scrape or another."

I blinked, unaware that anyone had been watching.

"Do you remember that time you smuggled a dozen goats into John's chambers?"

My mouth fell open in surprise and I bit back a laugh as the memory swam up to the forefront of my mind. "I forgot that!"

Ian continued, "Something happened. One day you were raising hell and coming to dinner with mud on your cheeks and then," he snapped, "just like that you were sullen and quiet and," Ian stopped to scowl at my dress with distaste, "covered in bows."

Crossing my arms over my bodice, I frowned, knowing full well I had been the catalyst for my own imprisonment. I punched Alex. I demanded his removal from Stormway. I banished my only friend.

"I didn't know anyone knew I existed," I said as sadness filled me with heaviness.

"Mother and Father overcorrected with you. I don't blame them, after all, with all of us boys. No matter what, you were destined to be their little lady."

"No doubt we all would have been happier had I been born a boy."

Ian laughed, "Maybe."

The family had been too full of self-assured boys for me to get any attention. So, I had faded away. Hiding in corners and perfecting my posture. Asking about the weather when spoken to, but mostly finding any way I could to silence myself, to keep from being seen, lest my differences and inadequacies were noticed.

"Come to my study tomorrow after breakfast and I will show you a map. It's high time you understand your birthright. But know this, Eilean, you're the richest, most sought after woman in this room. Your father is more powerful and more influential than any other Laird in the Islands. You command more respect and wield more influence than you realize."

I had not known. How was I to know when no one had ever told me? The revelation felt false. If I was all he said, then why was I so neglected? None of the girls wanted to talk to me. None of the men...I waved my hands to gesture to the crowd before us, "And yet not a single person will ask me to dance."

"Ah," Ian smiled wickedly, "because you have seven brothers protecting you — "

"You cannot be serious — "

"And," Ian pushed on, ignoring my contempt, "and everyone can see you only have eyes for the Mainlander. They are waiting to see if you will claim him."

I felt my blood drain from my face.

"Is there a rule in all your etiquette books that says you may not ask a man to dance?"

It was so like what Alex had said about the Standing. Eager for a moment's respite from this world-altering experience of a conversation with one of my brothers lasting longer than a handful of seconds — and on such topics! — I drained my wine glass. Ian snickered.

The pipes and fiddles struck up a lively jig. Having made his point, Ian settled down snugly in his chair and eyed Alex meaningfully. "Well, are you a MacLeod or not?" He taunted.

I bit the inside of my cheek and watched the couples dancing. Their cheeks bright from the exertion, the heat, and the wine. Mother spoke in a whispered conference with the other matrons on the edge of the dance floor. Their eyes flashed like hawks, sharply watching the women as they flirted and laughed with their partners. Mother had never pressured me to join in, to dance and tipple and smile. I wondered at that, that she would be so devoted to the idea of me becoming a good wife and then never tell me what, exactly, to do in order to succeed in that goal. Maybe it didn't matter, since the Standing took care of the formalities. My heart thudded in my chest at all the conflicting and confusing revelations of the evening. My gaze snagged on Alex, again, as he broke away from a gaggle of young men and walked toward a tankard to refill his glass. He was smiling and looked overjoyed. His eyes met mine. He came to a halt.

I nearly catapulted out of my chair with how swiftly and forcefully I stood.

"Good," Ian whispered.

Alex dipped his head humbly and then altered his course for the head table. I walked from my place behind it and found myself drawn to him, perhaps, by that smile.

"Enjoy your conquest, Eilean." Ian nodded when I looked back at him, eager for any pointers. Ian himself stood, bowed at me, and scuttled off into the crowd with a smug grin.

Alex reached where I stood and bowed low. I would not have known to look, to scan the faces of the semi-circle of men that had been lingering by the head table all night if Ian had not filled my head with nonsense — but it was remarkably obvious that they were now sizing Alex up. They shot fleeting glances at my face as if waiting to see how I would react.

"Miss Eilean," Alex said as he rose, "would you do me the favor of a dance?" He looked confident but wary.

"Sure," was my startled answer. My stomach started to flutter and my face flooded with warmth. I spared another glance at the men, noting their raised eyebrows and muttering. I wiped my hands on my skirt before I took Alex's offered hand. We bowed more formally to one another and Alex led me to the dance floor.

The musicians played a stately Allemand, quite at odds with the lively folk tunes they had been churning out all night. When Alex placed his hand on my waist I broke into a simmering panic. I was far too aware of the heat from his hand through my silk bodice. And the watchful eyes of the entire room.

We danced in strained silence, looking at the floor, the ceiling, the people crowded around us. Anything but each other. Finally, it was too much, and I had to speak or I would combust.

"How is your grandmother," I asked, selecting the first topic that came to mind.

"She is well, thank you," he said. I noticed he looked as uneasy as I felt. After a moment, Alex laughed, "she doesn't know I am here."

"No?"

"I received your father's invitation with only enough time to pack and ride out. I left a note for her, but I doubt she will be happy with me when I return."

"No doubt my father is honored you made the trip," I said, bland formality filling the void where friendship had once been.

"You must be so happy that your brother will marry, and soon. Though you have...distress...over the method, a wedding is always a cheerful affair."

"I suppose," I squinted at him, Ian's words echoing through my mind. Was he hinting at something? Was there something I could do or say that would make this conversation more bearable? Instead, I harped on the Standing. "I don't know how Walther could be happy. Even you saw his face."

Alex grinned, "He looked miserable, didn't he? Was he upset about the girl?"

"No, he..." I was unsure of spilling Walther's secrets, so I did not. "He prefers his freedom, I think."

Alex looked at me with a raised brow, understanding that I was hiding something. It was gutting. We still knew each other so well but were utter strangers. Never as children had it been this hard to talk. And, true, we had mostly argued, but I found dancing with him to be more lonely than his absence. Too much time settled between us, too much change.

The dance ended and Alex walked me back to the head table, pulling out my chair and then taking a seat to my left.

"Can I say something?" He asked timidly, his eyes roving over my face.

I shook my head, "Of course."

"I missed you," he admitted. His face crumpled into a heartbroken smile at the confession, as if he had been attempting to hold back that piece of information since his arrival.

Air rushed out of me with a relieved sigh. I smiled back, my lips trembling a bit. We laughed at the state of our awkwardness.

"I missed you, too. Desperately," I said. "And I am sorry like I said in the corridor. I wanted to make things right a thousand times since the day you left...and...I figured you were uninterested in hearing from me...since it was my fault you were sent away."

"To soothe your torment, I'll tell you that my departure was not entirely your fault. My grandmother and your father had been in correspondence about sending me back to The Fist for months. A letter arrived the same day as our disagreement. My grandmother had fallen ill and the doctor unsure of her recovery. I had to go, you see."

"Oh," I said, the information filling in the portrait of my memory. "I didn't know. No one told me."

Alex rested his elbow on the armrest of the chair, holding his head up as he talked. "It was for the best, I think. Not — not because of how we ended things," he said quickly, "but because it was time I applied what your father and brothers had taught me. I had to return to my own lands and take up the responsibilities of Lord Leslie."

"Still, Alex," I said, my heart needing absolution. "I should have written."

"As I should have. Can we consider ourselves more than forgiven and put the past behind us? I would like for us to get to know each other again."

I smiled, nodding my head. "Of course. How long do you plan on visiting?"

"Until Walther's wedding, at least. Though, I'd like to stay a bit longer. I like being among your family. As long as you don't give me a black eye or demand my removal, I might be here quite a while."

"I promise to be on my best behavior," I teased.

"Why did you punch me, anyway?" He asked, looking at me with bright eyes and a lopsided grin. "I've replayed the incident over in my head for years and have no idea what my offense was."

Looking away from him, I studied my hands. Shaking my head, I pretended like I couldn't remember. "You were probably being an ass."

"That is a given, but there has to be a reason."

I looked at him, scrunching my face in indecision, "For one, you cut off my braid."

Alex laughed. "Tell me, come on. I can see it on your face, you remember."

Letting loose and exaggerated sigh, I clued him in on the years-long offense. "It was wounded pride. You called me a horse-face fussock. And when that was not enough, you called me 'ugly' outright."

Alex had the grace to look appalled, "Please tell me I did not."

"You did," I nodded, laughing a bit at the memory. It no longer held the pain it once had. "You asked me who I thought was more handsome between you and Douglas McFowler and when I answered Douglas you said 'it's just as well as he is a stable boy, that's the only kind of fellow who would be interested in a horse-faced fussock like you.'"

Alex sucked in a breath.

"And then, when I demanded you take it back, you told me in no uncertain terms that I was ugly so I punched you."

"Eileen, I am horrified — "

"It was my birthday," I added, biting my cheek to keep from shrieking. I couldn't help myself, I lost myself to a fit of giggles. The sensation was intoxicating, more potent than the wine or the party atmosphere. I wondered when I had last been so amused.

Eventually, Alex joined in the hysterics, when he managed to wipe the mask of chagrin off his face. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly in both of his. His skin was hot on my own, the scrape of his calluses against my palm unexpectedly alluring. My vision fractured until I could only see stars.

"Please, Eilean, forgive me. I cannot imagine what would have lead me to say such things," Alex looked so earnest, so nervous that I would never absolve him of this sin.

I wiped a stray tear of laughter from my eyes with my free hand. "Consider my vote retroactively cast in your favor. Douglas McFowler looks like a donkey himself these days and you have grown quite..." my voice caught on my words, but I still whispered "handsome".

A faint blush bloomed across Alex's cheeks and nose. I froze, startled by my boldness. Thankfully, I was spared further embarrassment — or perhaps my embarrassment was doubled — when Alex laughed.

"I only had to leave for three years to get you to say it!" A devastatingly handsome smile lit up his face. His golden curls seemed alive in the flickering firelight. He increased the pressure on our clasped hands. With a bow of his beautiful head, he raised my hand up to his lips and kissed it. "Do not let it go unremarked, Eilean, that you were a beauty then and you are now, too."

My heart thundered. When he raised his eyes back to mine I could only wonder if I would ever find the power of speech ever again.