Page 71 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
When the Laird nodded in confirmation, she said, “Aye, I think there is.”
“All right, well ye tell them what I said? Have them send a letter to the castle, and we can work somethin’ out.”
“Right…” was the mother’s disbelieving reply.
“Education is very important to me, and no one should be without it if they are interested,” Ciara added sincerely.
It was the very reason why she had started her work in the village in the first place. When she started in her father’s clan, there had been no teacher either—just parents teaching their children. But Ciara had wanted to offer them more.
So, she had started with adults, a few at a time, until someone agreed to work with the children, and then it spread from there. It was amazing how she could help one person and that one person could go on to help countless others.
“She is very serious about this. She’s already been helpin’ me guards,” Magnus chimed in.
“Thank ye, Me Lady,” the mother finally said, nodding and seeming to accept the offer, at last.
Ciara didn’t want to accept her gratitude, it was the least she could do for her people. But she gave the woman a small nod of acknowledgement.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the Laird was giving her that awed look again.
“I told ye, ye’re really somethin’, lass,” he whispered to her.
* * *
More and more villagers approached them. There a steady stream of people who wanted to talk to them. They heard about everything from food shortages to concerns about the approaching winter to concerns about the roads. Magnus had resorted to propping up his head with his hand in order to keep it upright.
Despite the exhaustion, he couldn’t help but stare at Ciara every so often. She was so easily adjusting to her role here, and it was obvious that all of the villagers who spoke to them adored her. One by one, she had won them over.
Whether it was with an empathetic smile, a thoughtful question, an insightful solution, or her enduring selflessness, she worked them all over. It probably didn’t hurt that she was the most breathtaking person he’d ever seen either, but they were falling at her feet because ofher,not her face. And he was the one lucky enough to call her his wife.
He pulled her chair across the cobblestones, closer to him. The sound of wood on stone rang out, but it was worth it. Because now he was within reach to place his hand on her thigh, and with that temptation right there, how could he not?
A stony-faced, older gentleman hobbled up to them next. He walked slowly, but unassisted, dragging his tired body forward out of sheer force of will. His presence alone was surprising. With how long the feud raged on, very few men lived to old age these days. Here was someone who spent the majority of their life under the former Laird’s rule…
The weight of this interaction was not lost on Magnus, and he found himself tightening his grip on Ciara’s leg. She gently covered his hand with her own and squeezed back.
Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself against the man’s words.
“I’ve been around a long time, lad. I lived through yer faither’s Lairdship and his faither before him,” the man spoke, his voice strong but not loud. He spoke as if he knew everyone else would strain their ears to hear him anyway.
Magnus inhaled again, forcing air in and out of his lungs as the man continued.
“Nae a lot of people remember yer grandfaither, but I do.” The man leveled Magnus with a steely look. “He was a good man, and a good laird. He used to come to the village all the time.” He paused, not in any rush to make his point.
Like when they had first arrived, the crowd of villagers quickly swelled around them. When Magnus broke eye contact with the elder gentleman, he noted that what seemed like the whole village was watching their interaction. He swallowed, his mouth dry.
Highlanders respected tradition and their elders. Magnus had a feeling this man could sway everyone else’s opinion.
Finally, the man continued, “Then there was yer faither… In all the years that we lived and worked anddiedfor that man, I’d never met him. I dinnae think anyone did. He didnae care enough to ken his people directly. We were expendable to him.”
With another gulp, Magnus listened intently. His wife was intermittently squeezing his hand in a silent reminder that she was there, and that she understood. It was maybe the only thing grounding him.
“And now we have ye,” the man said.
Magnus couldn’t stop his hand from shaking just the smallest bit. He had lived most of his life not knowing much about his father, and he was fine with that. Being a bastard was not easy, but back then, he had reasoned that any father who would leave them to that fate wasn’t worth knowing. In his mind, his father was just some drunk or deadbeat client of his mother.
But on her deathbed, his mother told him the truth about the man who had sired him. About what he did to her and who he was. The knowledge had shifted something in him, and when he said goodbye to his mother, Magnus knew what he needed to do.
When he watched his father die days later, he wanted to wipe his hands off the whole clan. He had rid the world of his father’s stain, except for the part that lived on in him. And that was the crux of it.
