Page 65 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
Meanwhile, Emma was nearly dizzy, her breath hitching in her chest and shame coiling in her belly. All she could think about was how when she learned of the Queen’s Edict, she’d been silly enough to believe that lairds were not worthy of Englishwomen. That they were barbaric and unworthy.
I think I had it backward.
Or perhaps she needed to stop thinking in such terms at all. Her mind sagged under the weight of this, even as her heart soared, and she suddenly felt like she understood the real purpose of the Edict. The Queen must have seen the potential, this freedom that was so different from what they knew, and she must have believed that they could forge a bright future together.
“What are ye thinkin’ about, I wonder,” said a husky voice, and a gentle hand tipped up her chin. “Emma?”
Emma blinked and smiled at Grant, who seemed to falter. Something flickered in his eyes, and he dipped his head, before he caught himself. Clearing his throat, he held out his arm, and together they walked out of the castle.
Neither of them said much on the road to the village. Others were making their way there, too. Castle folk in clumps, chattering and laughing. Emma even saw a few of her maids pass by, wearing white dresses, with flowers in their hair, laughing and singing bawdy songs in Gaelic.
Fireflies flitted in a glen. Their light illuminated a spring, beguiling one to loiter on the path. Emma was almost tempted to ask if they could simply keep walking, as she didn’t think she’d mind just wandering these wild fields and spaces with Grant.
Only, as they got closer to the village, the music and scents in the air beckoned. When they emerged into the square, the music drew Emma forward, and her heart fluttered. Folks were dancing and laughing, clapping their hands together as they whirled around. Children ran every which way underfoot, flowers in their hands, and petals were scattered everywhere.
“D’ye see anythin’ ye want to do first?” Grant murmured in her ear, and she felt a warm tingle in her neck. “Hungry?”
“Can we walk around a bit?” she asked, and he nodded.
They kept to the edge of the crowds. Emma saw a bonfire, and she gasped and lurched forward as two lads jumped over it.
“What are they doing?” she exclaimed. “That’s so dangerous!”
“Aye, lass, that’s the point,” Grant murmured.
Was it her imagination, or was he lowering his voice even further, despite the noise around them? Did he not want to be overheard?
“They’re jumpin’ over the fire for luck, as ‘tis a Banrose tradition. But also, the highest jump is the height of the harvest—or so the Old Stories say.”
“Oh,” Emma murmured as people cheered when a lad all but spun through the air. “Did you ever do that?”
“Nay,” Grant said, and there was a trace of sadness in his voice. “I never got the chance.”
Emma glanced at him, sensing that this was related to his past and why he’d been away from Banrose for some time.
“Well, all that jumping is making me hungry,” she declared, even though she didn’t really want a snack.
But her statement made Grant laugh, and he obligingly bought them bags of smoked nuts, sweets, and a bit of fresh bread.
Emma felt a heady sort of freedom as she stood with him behind the crowds, while a minstrel relayed the stirring tale of a Scottish laird who had sailed out to sea to try and chase down the East Wind, which had stolen the voice of his beloved.
When the tale ended with their love triumphing, Emma let out a happy cry, and half the audience glanced back at her. She flushed, while Grant chuckled, but the minstrel merely doffed his hat.
After that, they resumed their walk, and Emma noticed that the Banrose folk were starting to realize that their Laird was among them. At first, the tension seemed to rise, but when they sat down and enjoyed a rousing fiddle solo, it dissipated. Folk tipped their hats or nodded, and Grant nodded back.
As Emma contemplated whether she wanted her fortune told or to leave her future well enough alone, she felt a tug on her skirt.
A little girl stood there and smiled at her, revealing a gap between her front teeth. “For the Lady.” She held out a beautiful red rose in each hand. “And the Laird.”
“Oh, thank you,” Emma said and took a rose, then nudged Grant to do the same. “They are beautiful.”
“Ye are welcome,” the girl said and then scampered off.
Emma looked over to see Grant twirling the rose and smiling. When their eyes met, he leaned over and tucked it into her hair, near the bun at the nape of her neck. Then, he took her rose and tucked it into the other side of her bun.
“Do ye want yer fortune read?” he asked. She shook her head, and he took her hand, gesturing with his head. “Then come with me.”
They wove through the crowd, before Grant suddenly pulled them down a narrow alley and the noise of the crowd died down.Only the music followed them, growing fainter and fainter, while Emma’s heart pounded with anticipation.
