Page 34 of Highlander’s Captive

But underneath that, he saw a good person. Her eyes were pure, honest. They didn’t lie. They showed him her pain, and in their depths, fear. A constant sense of panic.

He wanted to free her from it.

Was he the source of her pain, her fear? If so, he hated causing her distress.

But he shouldn’t care.

Craig grunted as he pulled the giant table into position with several of his men. The hall wasn’t decorated for a traditional wedding. There were no flowers, it hadn’t been cleaned, and the food wasn’t yet ready. The lack of a woman’s hand over the household was clear.

“I’ll go see about the food,” Amy said.

She’d been standing in the corner, looking a little helpless and lost, watching the men do the heavy lifting.

“Aye,” Craig said. “Thank ye.”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes, and walked out. What had changed? He swore she’d liked the kiss, she’d wanted him to kiss her. But then…

Stop caring about her feelings, he reminded himself.

But despite himself, he wanted to please her. Mayhap, a clean floor and tables would lift her mood.

“Owen, Lachlan, take two more men and wipe the tables,” Craig said.

Both stared at him.

“Ye’re jesting, cousin, surely,” Lachlan said. “’Tis women’s work.”

“The only woman here is my wife. So if ye dinna wish to dine in dirt, like pigs, ye move yer arses and clean.”

Frowning and mumbling curses, they turned and walked out.

At least they were Cambels and his direct relatives. He looked over at the others standing nearby. They all tensed, sensing they were all about to get similar tasks.

“Dinna look at me like that, lads,” Craig said. “Ye three, come with me. We shall take brooms and sweep.”

Unhappily, they trudged after him.

After a while, the dirt had been swept away, the tables and chairs had been cleaned of spilled ale, crumbs, and scraps of food, a fire was burning in the fireplace, and even the rain had stopped.

Craig, Owen, Lachlan, and the rest of the helping crew brought food and drinks from the kitchen: bread, butter, cheese, and roasted hares and fowls. Then casks of ale, wine, and uisge were brought from the storage rooms.

When everything was set up, and the hall was full of men sitting around the tables, chatting and drinking, and the homely scent of grilled meat, fresh bread, and woodsmoke filled the room, Craig’s bride finally returned. She took a seat by Craig’s side at the table at the end of the hall, next to the fireplace, where the lord and the lady of the castle usually sat surrounded by their family.

Family Craig would never have with Amy MacDougall.

“Did you clean?” She cocked one eyebrow, looking around the room.

“Aye,” Craig said, watching a smile spread on her lips.

“Oh. Looks great! Thank you, Craig.”

He slid a cup of ale towards her and she took it, their fingers touching briefly and sending heat through him. He may enjoy this marriage if he managed to keep the peace with her, giving her what she wanted when he could.

He rose from his seat and raised his glass. “May my wife live long and well!”

The warriors echoed. Owen stood up, “And to Craig Cambel, I could have sworn I’d never see him marrit to a MacDougall. May God give him strength to live through this year!”

The men laughed, and even Amy smiled and shook her head, then drank.