Lady Eilean

Chapter 56

"There are a million things to prepare!" was his unhelpful answer. When he looked up from his desk, his eyes were bright with excitement.

"Prepare what?" I asked, sitting on the arm of his chair.

He ran his hands through his hair, the curls standing on end. "Money, paperwork, deeds, titles... everything. I will spare no expense to ensure you are mine. I will bankrupt The Fist if I must."

I spluttered, my mind working swiftly. A coldness skittered up my spine, and I shivered. "I don't want to be bought. You understand that, right?"

Alex smiled and kissed me on the nose, "We are beholden to the rules of the game we play, Eilean. I abhor The Standing as much as you do, but if this is what it takes, so be it."

I didn't have an answer to that, trapped as I was by the truth and hot intensity of his gaze. "Well, whatever you do, don't sell everything. We'll need somewhere to live."

"Would you be content in a boathouse?" He teased. "I can keep a boathouse on my family's summer estate."

"How you spoil me," I said.

Alex stood and leaned over me, "I bet this makes you regret not marrying me years ago."

"Just a bit," I conceded, smiling. I let out a breath, laughing as a long-ago memory surfaced. "The timing and method are unimportant, I suppose. But I knew, Alexander Leslie, that I would make you mine before I ever set eyes on you."

He pressed in close, eyebrows high, "Did you now?"

"I told Robert you would make me your queen," I snickered, shaking my head.

"Oh, I intend to do just that," he said, his voice low.

"Does the boathouse have dungeons?"

When he kissed me, desire overtook rage, and I felt a momentary peace.

The memory of that encounter helped me endure the rest of the gown fitting.

~

Summer faded into autumn and guests from across Ellesmure swarmed the castle. As they pitched their tents on the grounds and drank to excess in the great hall, I braced myself for my fate. I would have been very near a breaking point without the support of Alex, my brothers, Calum, and the others I had unknowingly knitted into a family.

Improving slowly, my brothers became my protectors, keeping Mother and Father or would-be suitors out of my way so I could continue to see to the day-to-day running of Stormway. They were a bulwark against any encroachment on my routine. Until the day they exiled me from Ellesmure, I intended to do what I could to run it correctly. Surprisingly, my brothers became excellent ambassadors for my cause. It was not unusual to see them huddled with courtiers, farmers, or tenants whispering in low voices about the realities of my father's illness.

As the Gathering grew nearer, Stormway grew more populated, and the schism in the court grew wider. Tensions were high, and it was clear a dividing line between loyalty to my father and hope at my advancement had split the attendees. Every day, more and more people approached me, eager to meet me, bow to me, beg for my help. At the very least, the Gathering would prove entertaining. Who would be the victor remained the only question to be answered.

On a misty morning, a few days before the Gathering was to begin officially, I walked, yawning, into the office. Hair unbound and vest unbuttoned to reveal my rumpled, oversize shirt, I shuffled into the room carrying a cup of coffee, my boots, and with creases from my pillow still on my cheek. I was less than pulled together. The state of my toilet would not have been a problem, except one hundred men were waiting for me in the study.

Swallowing a mouthful of coffee, I stared at them, wondering how they had infiltrated my space. I always kept the door locked. Then I spied Calum, who had a key, grinning like a fool and sitting with his leg slung over the large leather chair behind my desk.

"Good morning, Eilean. You are a vision. Everything I hoped you would be when I imagined this moment," he said, hands interlaced behind his head. "This lot was very unhappy to hear you kept such early hours, but I told them if we wanted to catch you, we had to get to you first thing."

"Who are these people?" I asked.

They did not dress like those traveling for the Gathering. None of them wore McLeod yellow and black, or Ellesmure's blue and green. Dressed in a variety of styles and colors, they were a bright mismatch of fashions.

"Consider this a wedding present." Calum winked.

"That's not an answer," I pointed out. "And I think I'll be fine with just one husband."

Calum pretended to be scandalized. "No room for one more? Not even me?"

Sighing, I rolled my eyes. "Calum."

He laughed and swung his leg down from the armrest. "Oh, come on. Can't you guess?"

"War buddies?"

Calum shook his head. "So unimaginative. No head for spectacle. It is your one failing, darling." He addressed the hoard, like a mother refusing any display of disobedience, his voice sharp. "Her only, failing, I'll add."

I endured their pointed stares. Walking to the desk, doing what I could to stare back, I placed my mug on the table and pulled on my boots. As I buttoned up my vest, I was thrilled to notice my stays had been visible. I begged Calum to reveal his secrets.

My friend smiled and held my stare for a moment or two too long. He threw out a lackadaisical hand and gestured to the group. "Eilean, meet the Delegation. Delegation, meet Laird MacLeod."

I blinked at him and looked at the men before me. "What, all of them?"

Calum shrugged and stood up. "I couldn't endure your annoyance at... what was it? 'A lifetime of intermediaries'? So I called in a few favors and brought my work here. It's time we move on from all the blame and work together. And, quite frankly, I'm getting old and all the travel was wearing me out."

I looked back over the group of men, a slow smile blooming on my face. "These aren't the circumstances under which I would have preferred to meet any of you, but now that you're here... welcome to Stormway." I checked the clock on the mantle. "And we're running late on today's schedule already, so we best get to work. What do we need to discuss?'

"I told you she was relentless," Calum said to the Delegation, cackling. "Take a seat, gents. Laird MacLeod has the floor."