Page 58 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

Here we go again.

They had already had such a fight twice this week. Ellen would reproach Florence for her spending and overly enthusiastic social schedule. Florence would defend herself by claiming that Ellen was a prude and a bore. Then the argument would turn to some past slight or disagreement, likely one they had already argued about several times, until one finally stormed off in a fury while Kenna was left to comfort the other.

They have spent far too much time together, Kenna thought as she released another long sigh.

Being cooped up in this inn with nothing but each other’s company—for Florence’s father had banned her from accepting any social calls until they had returned—had worn on them all.

The other patrons of the inn gave them uncomfortable glances, some getting up and moving to the tables that were as far from the women as the space allowed. Kenna couldn’t blame them; she would have moved away herself if there was any chance that they wouldn’t notice her go.

The door behind them opened, letting in a blast of cold air that assaulted her back. Go, she wanted to turn and tell the new patrons. Run while you still can. But that proved to be unnecessary.

“Christ, ye two, knock it off, or I’ll tan both yer hides.”

Florence and Ellen both immediately stopped, eyes wide with shock and a bit of fear. There, standing in the doorway, with a face as red as his hair and green eyes squinted with anger and embarrassment, was Laird Lovat.

“Father!” Florence rushed from the table and into his arms.

He returned her embrace incredulously.

The door opened again, and a few more of the Fraser men came marching into the room, all so full of smiles and whoops as they called for a round of food and ale. Kenna instinctively started counting them out. By the time the stream of men stopped, she was only missing two.

“I told ye they would be back today!” Florence squealed in delight. “Where are my brothers?”

The door opened one more time, and Kenna’s headcount was complete. Rob and Hugh trudged through the door, both looking bedraggled and unkempt. Florence threw herself at them both, already asking scores of questions, not even giving them a second to answer before moving on to the next one.

The Frasers settled themselves into the chairs surrounding Kenna and Ellen while the innkeeper rushed out trays filled with bowls of stew and large frothing mugs of ale. His wife was close behind him, carrying baskets heaping with fresh bread to satisfy their best customers.

Rob, managing to quiet Florence with a promise that all would be told soon enough, came up behind Kenna’s chair and leaned against it, his hands resting on her shoulders. There were large, dark circles under his eyes, and his hair had never looked so homely, but he seemed perfectly healthy otherwise. Even the thin cut on his cheek, some small wound he had earned at Strathbogie, had mostly healed, though there would likely be a scar to mark the spot.

“How was it?” Ellen asked.

“‘Twas over quick,” Hugh replied as he slid into the chair next to Ellen. “Two thousand of the Queen’s men against five hundred Gordons. Bit of a waste of time, if ye ask me.”

“Well, nobody asked ye,” Rob teased. “‘Twas a decent fight, while it lasted.”

“But how did ye get back to the city? We were just at the gates an hour ago and couldn’t see the army on the horizon.”

“We didna come back with the army. Between the Queen’s guard and the Lowland clans that will stay in Aberdeen until the Queen returns south, there were more than enough men to walk the prisoners back. Most of the other Highland clans just went straight home from Corrichie,” Hugh explained before diving into a bowl of stew.

“Aye, but we had to come back to get ye lot,” Murtagh interjected with a grin, reaching across the table to pick up a bit of bread that the women had passed over. “I said we coulda just left ye be, but the Laird said his gold stores canna afford to leave Florence so close to so many shops fer much longer.”

The entire Fraser party laughed while Florence merely shrugged and giggled.

Kenna felt a gentle warmth spread through her. How long had it been since she had sat around a table with so many people so dear to her?

“Alright, alright, come on ye lot, quiet down,” Laird Lovat said, though his face was touched with the lopsided grin that he shared with his eldest son. “‘Tis good to be back in Aberdeen, and ‘tis good to be free of this nasty rebellion. I’d love to treat ye all to another round, but we canna celebrate just yet. Go and get some sleep, all of ye. We will have to depart fer Dounie in the morn.”

“So soon, Father?” Florence asked frowning. “‘Tis a very short rest fer ye all.”

“Aye, but the snow will be upon us soon, and we have to get back to Dounie before then. But I promise ye all a feast when we arrive home, the likes of which ye’ve never seen before.”

The men cheered and clapped each other, dozens of chairs groaning against the stone floors as they were pushed back and abandoned.

Florence leaned over and kissed her father’s cheek while the rest of his children stood and made their way up the stairs.

Rob draped his arm over Kenna’s shoulders and leaned on her, planting one soft kiss in her curls.

“Ye are exhausted, aren’t ye?” she asked with a smile when he stumbled a bit on the stairs.