There it lay before them. His childhood home.
The fields were ready for harvest and his many clansmen were busy at work, tending to them. The keep and bailey stood in the middle of these fields, its walls reaching high to the heavens, strong and intimidating to those who didn't find refuge within. All his people lived in the bailey, there were only a few wee huts outside for the guards to rest in on rotational night duty. This had been his father's doing, his wish had been for all his people to be safe within the bailey walls, that was why it was so large.
Alasdair looked over to his wife.
What a beauty.
The wind was playing with her raven black hair while her Forget-Me-Not eyes were fixed on the structure ahead of them. Those lovely soft lips were pulled tight though and she sat rather rigid on her horse. The poor lass was indeed intimidated, but Alasdair would make sure that this feeling would not be for long; this was her home now, too. He reached over to remove her delicate hand from the reins she was clenching and gave it a squeeze.
Lily, being yanked out of her trance, jumped and shot her gaze at him. Alasdair sent an encouraging smile her way and Lily took a deep breath, visibly trying to relax as she returned her eyes to the fine clan ahead of them. As they continued riding, she didn't retract her hand and neither did he let go.
By the time they entered the walls of the bailey, they had a large following. Most if not all of those working in the field had stopped their work and came with them.
As soon as they crossed the drawbridge, all the people flocked around them and Alasdair studiously watched how his people would react to Lily and how she would respond to them. The people were nothing but smiles and warm welcomes and Lily herself started to relax and smile kindly back to the people surrounding her and Bridget.
In the hubbub, their hands had loosened leaving an empty coldness in his hand and Alasdair almost shouted in surprise when he saw Lily swing her legs to one side and slide off her horse into the midst of the growing crowd. She started making conversation with those around her, asking their names and seemed genuinely interested in their lives. After overcoming his shock, Alasdair followed her off his horse and placed a protective hand on the small of her back.
"What are ye doing?" he whispered to her stiffly and got a beautiful but confused face for an answer.
"'Tis the custom at Leslie to greet our people after a long journey... No' a far-reaching custom I take it." Her face fell a little as she realised her mistake.
"Nay," he scoffed slightly, not able to hide his smile, "Mayhap it should be."
The smile she sent him let Alasdair know he had said the right thing and the new couple continued with Lily's meet and greet.
They made it to the stable near the keep just as the sun was setting and after leaving their horses with the stable master and his new stable boy, they headed up the steps to the keep.
There she was, waiting just outside the entrance. The one who orchestrated all of this.
Lady Fiona MacKenzie.
Her blue eyes were as stern as ever and her lips tightly drawn into a thin line as she scrutinised their approach. Alasdair knew she could not have been pleased with Lily lowering herself to the people's level if it had shocked him as much as it had.
Lily stiffened and bit her bottom lip, but Alasdair gave her hand a little squeeze as he drew it into the crook of his arm and led her up the steps.
"Mother," he greeted her, kissing her cheek.
"Alasdair," she spoke with the cold, judgemental voice that had become so familiar to him over the years, "You've returned. And with yer betrothed bride."
She was gloating, he could tell.
"Aye, so I have."
"M'lady," Lily curtsied politely under the watchful eye of the Lady Fiona, "Lovely to see ye again."
"Lady Lily, where is yer lady's maid?" Lady Fiona always was blunt and to the point.
"I do no' have one, m'lady, I-"
"That simply will no' do," Lady Fiona cut her off, "I'll no' have the lady of Clan Mackenzie without a lady's maid... most improper."
"Aye, m'lady," Lily mumbled, keeping her eyes on Lady Fiona's shoes.
"Shall we go inside?" Alasdair abruptly changed the subject, wishing to clear the tension in the air. Alasdair had noticed she hadn't brought a maid but thought nothing of it as there was nothing improper about her traveling with her husband, but he should have known his mother would not have approved even if Lily was her choice.
"O'course," his mother stated and turned to lead them inside, "I trust ye had a pleasant journey."
"Pleasant enough, we had a run in with some ruffians, but nothing we could no' handle."
"Hm," was his mother's only reply.
His mother entered before them but just before they followed, Alasdair stopped. He looked down at Lily who was becoming more and more uncertain. She lifted an eyebrow curiously as a cheeky smile spread on his face. Alasdair bent down and nimbly scooped his bride into his arms, gaining a surprised squeak from her and a tight squeeze around his neck. He winked at her and she easily relaxed in his hold, smiling and shaking her head before looking up at him with red cheeks.
Once inside, Alasdair placed her gently on her feet again, ignoring the pointed glare from his mother and keeping his hand on Lily's mid-back to show his support as he knew that glare was not for the fainthearted.
Lady Fiona pulled her lips into a tight line but said nothing. She turned to the maid standing on call, "Dolag, show Lady Lily to her chamber and see to it her and Laird Alasdair's belongings are brought there and unpacked."
"M'lady," the maid bobbed a curtsy, "Lady Lily, if ye would follow me."
"So Mother, are ye still happy with yer choice o' bride fer me?" Alasdair inquired once the maid and Lily disappeared down the hall, trying to hide an amused smile, "Ye seem to be a wee bit less satisfied than when ye first informed me, what changed?"
"She looks exactly like her mother," Lady Fiona spat, barely above a whisper, turning to pour them a drink.
"Ye would have kenned that before today. What's wrong if she looks like her mother?"
"And her behaviour," his mother continued a bit louder, ignoring his question, "Getting off her horse in a crowd like that! She no' only put her life in danger but made herself their equal - how is she to lead and rule this clan with the authority and respect that comes with being a lady when she acts like that? And no lady's maid... how unsuitable. Travelling fer over a week with only men... where's the lass' propriety?"
"Mother," Alasdair stopped her rant, placing his hands gently on her shoulders to look her in the eyes, "She was traveling with her husband and his men, 'twas no' improper. And as fer greeting the people, that is a custom o' her clan. After a long journey, the lairds and ladies would get off their horses to greet their people. And seeing how the people responded to her actions makes me wonder if we should no' continue that custom." He noticed the slight alarm behind his mother's bright eyes, "The people really appreciated being able to meet their new lady and were very welcoming... I believe it actually made them respect her more than had she just rode on."
Alasdair could almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she processed this and the tiny hint of resignation and respect creeping into Lady Fiona's face. She broke eye contact and her eyebrows furrowed when she noticed the cut on his blood-stained sleeve.
"From the ruffians, I presume." Lady Fiona really was not very adept with showing concern but she did sometimes have it.
"Aye," he confirmed, peering through the cut in his sleeve revealing the pinky-purple paste Lily had faithfully reapplied even after removing the stitches, "'Twas quite a deep cut."
"Did Keir patch ye up again?" There was almost a laugh in her voice, "Ye must get it redone before ye get another awful scar."
"Nay, actually Lily tended to me," Alasdair corrected, "She is a skilled healer, she has done extensive learning in the art fer the past five years after her mother's passing."
"Hm," his mother acknowledged. Alasdair could see her respect for her choice of wife grow, only a notch, but it grew nonetheless. "The hour grows late and ye must be tired from yer journey. I will bid ye good night."
"Good night, Mother."
After another kiss on her cheek, Alasdair had to stop himself from running to join his bride in their chambers. This was the first time in weeks that they would truly be alone together and he could barely control himself. He had restrained his hands for much of their travels as he hadn't wanted to embarrass her in front of his men, but the last few days had truly proved challenging. The more he learned about her, the more he admired and respected her. Her kind, caring nature, her sense of humour, her shy boldness, her knowledge in healing, and the expertise with which she applied it. The more he studied her features, the more he wanted to touch her smooth skin, embrace her warm, soft body, explore her silky lips...
Alasdair came to a stand still outside their closed chamber door. He took a deep breath to calm himself; he certainly didn't want to come off too strong.
He knocked softly before entering, seeing as they had only shared a private room once before, but there was no answer. Alasdair's eyebrows drew together as his heart rate increased; he did not want a repeat of finding her gone, as he already had twice before. He opened the door slowly, listening for anything that would give him information before he could see.
Fully in the room, his keen eyes scanned the room. Everything was just as he had left it besides a few of Lily's dresses being aired out, but where was Lily?
Panic started building in him as he continued searching the chamber. His gaze fell on the chairs by the fireplace and he released a breath he hadn't realise he had been holding, relief flooding his chest.
She was sitting there with a half-eaten bread roll in her hand, fast asleep.
His face softened as his heart filled with compassion. The poor lass was exhausted.
Alasdair could tell Lily wasn't getting the best nights' sleep on their travels. Who did, really? But she never complained.
Feeling his own eyes longing to rest, he quickly got ready for bed and pulled the furs on the bed back. Alasdair made his way over to Lily, removed the bread, and slowly picked her up. Only once he had her in his arms did her gorgeous blue eyes flutter open.
"Oh, m'laird," she slurred in surprise, trying to sit up in his hold, "My apologies, I did no' mean to fall asleep."
"'Tis quite a'right, Lily," he soothed her with a whisper, smiling softly. Deciding now was not the time to address her calling him that, he laid her down in the bed fully clothed and tucked the furs around her, "Ye've had a very strenuous journey, go back to sleep."
Lily looked like she wanted to argue as he stroked her hair gently, but she was so enervated, she simply closed her mouth again. He joined her and pulled her into his chest finally being able to revel in feeling her pressed against him. Even in her semi-conscious state, Lily stiffened slightly at the proximity, but soon he felt her relax against him and he could hear her steady breathing. Alasdair pressed a kiss into her neck and relished in her pleasing lavender, sea-salt scent just as he had on their wedding night.
"Good night, Lily."
***
Alasdair's senses were first stirred by the all too familiar birdsong. The beautiful, calming chirping of the Blackbird and Song Thrush made him smile, but that soon turned to a frown when that damned Wren joined in. Lovely as it was, he never could sleep through that bird's persistent call. He peeled his eyes open and was immediately appeased.
Lily was cuddled against him, head on his shoulder with her hand resting on his chest. Alasdair lay there for a time, enjoying having her close, listening to her even breaths. However, his respite didn't last when his mind flooded with all the duties he had left unattended during his absence. He would have left Ivor to take care of things and made the journey with only Keir and Fergus, both of whom were better on the battlefield than with ledgers, but he trusted Ivor's judgement too much to leave him behind when Alasdair was going to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life.
Alasdair couldn't bear to wake Lily when she looked so peaceful and was obviously still worn out, so, after placing a kiss on her forehead, he gently extricated himself from under her, adorned his plaid and after breaking his fast, went to find his first. Ivor was exactly where Alasdair had expected: in the study, bent over a ledger.
"Morning, Ivor."
"Hm, morning," Ivor responded distractedly, the strands of hair over his face lay in such a way that Alasdair could see his first was deep in concentration. There was no need for them to discuss what to do, they had been working together long before Alasdair's father died and knew each other's strengths and weaknesses like the back of their hand. They spent the morning going over different accounts, ensuring everything was in order.
Just as the midday meal was served in the study, Alasdair silently vowed never to let himself get so far behind with his work ever again, all the numbers were starting to blend together in one big blur. He glanced at his first and his face pulled into a frown as he noticed Ivor still had the same ledger in front of him as when Alasdair had first walked in. He watched Ivor while munching on a piece of mutton. Ivor's frown had never been deeper, his forehead wrinkled in concentration, as he seemed to get confused by what the book was reporting.
"Ye need to rest, Ivor, you've been staring at the same ledger for over an hour now."
"There's something no' right here..." Ivor whispered, almost to himself.
Raising a single eyebrow, Alasdair put down his morsel and headed over to the man curiously, "What is it?"
"Ye see this column?" The two crowded around the book and Ivor's finger guided their eyes, "I've been doing the calculations over and over, I even wrote it down, but the numbers do no' match up. Either I'm still tired from the journey or Charles made a miscalculation, but this total is much less than what it should be if Chrisholm paid what they should have."
"Charles? Make a miscalculation?" Alasdair asked skeptically. He made the quick calculation himself and his confused face mirrored Ivor's, "That's strange. Mayhap a few sheep died on the journey?"
"The last report I received said that none did..." Ivor muttered.
"Mm, look at this one," Alasdair pointed to another column, "Same thing with the total from the MacLeod transaction."
"And with Ross'... I have no' yet received Ross' reports, but MacLeod's report did no' mention any loss of sheep either..."
"Hm, and it seems to have happened more than once this past week..." Alasdair mused, absentmindedly rubbing his bearded chin with furrowed eyebrows, "Definitely something strange is happening. It seems quite unlikely that our own neighbours would try something so underhanded, knowing full well o' our reputation... Mayhap, let's rest fer today and sort it out tomorrow when we are both fresh in mind."
"Sounds reasonable..." Ivor dragged his hand over his face then looked piercingly at his laird, "'Tis no' mayhap because ye'd rather spend the day with a certain young lass, is it?"
"Ye've been spending too much time with Fergus," Alasdair shook him off, knowing full well he was without a doubt correct.
He practically flew out of the room back to their chamber, trying to seem casual as he popped his head in. Disappointment flooded Alasdair as he saw the chamber was empty. But did he seriously expect her to wait in their chambers all morning after he had headed out without waking her?
Shrugging off the deflated feeling, Alasdair figured he'd come across her in his movements around the castle and decided to go check to see how the horses were fairing and how Robert, the stable master, was going with the new stable boy.
Alasdair was more than ten paces away, but he could already hear joyful sounds emerging from the barn. Squealing, laughing, giggling.
Just then, Alasdair came to a standstill as the most melodious sound hit his ear. He heard her laugh.
Alasdair hadn't heard her laugh before. He only knew it was her because it sounded somewhat similar to the small chuckle here and there on their journey home. He quickened his feet to see what had caused this lovely sound.
He slowly peeked around the corner so as not to alert anyone of his presence and observed the scene before him. Two young children were running around giggling and squealing as they took turns chasing and being chased by his laughing wife.
Alasdair leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms in front of him.
What a beautiful mess she was.
Raven coloured hair flying every which way, decorated with hay. Cheeks flushed with the exercise. Forget-Me-Not eyes shining bright.
A smile crept onto his face as he watched Lily play with the children without a care in the world. Lily was wholly engaged, not minding anything else at this moment as she snatched up the girl and started tickling her mercilessly, getting even more hay on their persons. The boy tried to save the girl, but Lily turned on him! Then with a sudden turn of events, the two children started chasing her... and her smile couldn't have been bigger.
Emotions swirled in his chest. She would make a wonderful mother to all the bairns he was already planning to have with her.