escorted her to the top of the steps and when Iain presented her to his people, another exuberant shout echoed off the curtain walls.
As if someone gave a signal, the crowd quieted. Donald walked to the top of the stairs beside Iain and drew his sword. Each MacAlister warrior also raised his sword high and placed his hand over his heart while Donald said the words that promised her their fealty. When he finished, a wildly enthusiastic cheer echoed from the curtain walls, louder than the shouts before it. Màiri had never heard anything like it. She thought her heart would burst inside her.
She looked out into the crowd of people. Tears of joy streamed down the cheeks of men and women alike. Smiles of excitement shone bright on every face, laughter and joviality filling the air. Her gift told her she’d married a laird well-loved by his people. Her gift told her each MacAlister accepted her without question, without hesitation.
Her gift told her she belonged.
They needed to know nothing more than that their laird had chosen her as his wife and mistress. Even though her gift failed her where her husband was concerned, it did not fail her with his people.
She clenched her hands at her side and took in deep, steadying breaths. She’d always dreamed of a home where she would be loved and accepted. Was it possible she had found such a place?
For the first time in her life, she could imagine holding happiness within her grasp.
“Do na let their exuberance frighten you, lass. It is na every day someone they know comes back from the dead.”
“You are well loved, laird MacAlister. At least they are rejoicing you are still alive. The MacBrides would na be nearly so happy to find their laird had come back from the dead.”
Màiri noticed the frown that covered his face, but did not concentrate on it. Instead, her gaze moved to the far side of the castle where a small, withered old crone stood by herself in the corner. No one stood near her. “Who is that woman standing by herself?” she said, feeling the pull the woman had on her.
Iain followed her gaze and when he saw who she meant his back stiffened in warning. “Forget you saw her. You are never to go near her.”
The harshness she heard in his voice startled her. She looked again toward the corner where the woman had been but the spot was empty. As the impassioned crowd had cheered their laird and welcomed their new mistress, the old woman had turned her back and walked away. Màiri stared after her until she was out of sight. Even when she was gone, there remained behind a sadness Màiri could not explain. And a connection between them that puzzled her.
Her gift revealed the old woman’s loneliness and hurt, begging to be understood. More importantly, it revealed a wrong pleading to be forgiven.
She pushed aside the heaviness that was often a part of her gift and looked out over the throng of MacAlisters rejoicing the events of this day. If she wanted to be a part of them, she could never reveal her gift. No matter how real the pain or suffering around her, she could not acknowledge it.
Never before had she believed it was possible to have the kind of life she saw around her. Perhaps it was not. But she would not live her life as her mother had.
From this day on, she would be the perfect wife for Iain, and the perfect mistress to his people. She would do whatever it took to avoid the hell she and her mother had endured from the moment her father had discovered their gifts.
She would make a place here for herself. Without her gift.
Chapter 8
Màiri reveled in her burgeoning vision, certain it was possible to be a part of her husband’s world, positive she could have a life different than her mother’s.
She scanned the crowd. They would be her family now. She lifted her gaze to the man standing beside her. He would be her protector. The overwhelming peace that settled over her stole the breath from her body.
“Tonight we will have a celebration,”
As if someone gave a signal, the crowd quieted. Donald walked to the top of the stairs beside Iain and drew his sword. Each MacAlister warrior also raised his sword high and placed his hand over his heart while Donald said the words that promised her their fealty. When he finished, a wildly enthusiastic cheer echoed from the curtain walls, louder than the shouts before it. Màiri had never heard anything like it. She thought her heart would burst inside her.
She looked out into the crowd of people. Tears of joy streamed down the cheeks of men and women alike. Smiles of excitement shone bright on every face, laughter and joviality filling the air. Her gift told her she’d married a laird well-loved by his people. Her gift told her each MacAlister accepted her without question, without hesitation.
Her gift told her she belonged.
They needed to know nothing more than that their laird had chosen her as his wife and mistress. Even though her gift failed her where her husband was concerned, it did not fail her with his people.
She clenched her hands at her side and took in deep, steadying breaths. She’d always dreamed of a home where she would be loved and accepted. Was it possible she had found such a place?
For the first time in her life, she could imagine holding happiness within her grasp.
“Do na let their exuberance frighten you, lass. It is na every day someone they know comes back from the dead.”
“You are well loved, laird MacAlister. At least they are rejoicing you are still alive. The MacBrides would na be nearly so happy to find their laird had come back from the dead.”
Màiri noticed the frown that covered his face, but did not concentrate on it. Instead, her gaze moved to the far side of the castle where a small, withered old crone stood by herself in the corner. No one stood near her. “Who is that woman standing by herself?” she said, feeling the pull the woman had on her.
Iain followed her gaze and when he saw who she meant his back stiffened in warning. “Forget you saw her. You are never to go near her.”
The harshness she heard in his voice startled her. She looked again toward the corner where the woman had been but the spot was empty. As the impassioned crowd had cheered their laird and welcomed their new mistress, the old woman had turned her back and walked away. Màiri stared after her until she was out of sight. Even when she was gone, there remained behind a sadness Màiri could not explain. And a connection between them that puzzled her.
Her gift revealed the old woman’s loneliness and hurt, begging to be understood. More importantly, it revealed a wrong pleading to be forgiven.
She pushed aside the heaviness that was often a part of her gift and looked out over the throng of MacAlisters rejoicing the events of this day. If she wanted to be a part of them, she could never reveal her gift. No matter how real the pain or suffering around her, she could not acknowledge it.
Never before had she believed it was possible to have the kind of life she saw around her. Perhaps it was not. But she would not live her life as her mother had.
From this day on, she would be the perfect wife for Iain, and the perfect mistress to his people. She would do whatever it took to avoid the hell she and her mother had endured from the moment her father had discovered their gifts.
She would make a place here for herself. Without her gift.
Chapter 8
Màiri reveled in her burgeoning vision, certain it was possible to be a part of her husband’s world, positive she could have a life different than her mother’s.
She scanned the crowd. They would be her family now. She lifted her gaze to the man standing beside her. He would be her protector. The overwhelming peace that settled over her stole the breath from her body.
“Tonight we will have a celebration,”
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