Page 60 of Heather and the Highlander
“Thank you, Angus.” Niall sat down, feeling numb as he took in the sight before him.
An old man lying in his bed. That was all. No terrifying figure, no caustic words or sly looks. That was over. Because his father was dead.
The consumption must have finally done its work, stealing his breath until he could breathe no more, his lungs bloody and ruined in the wake of the disease. The old man died alone, coughing up his last and perhaps begging for mercy…but there was no one around to hear him, because he’d driven everyone away.
The MacNair finally lay silent, his face relaxing into death, finally,finallygiving up the constant sneer of dissatisfaction he wore during his life.
“He’s gone,” Maeve said softly.
Someone reached out to put a hand on Niall’s shoulder. “But the MacNair is still here. Whatever you need, MacNair. Tell us and it’ll be done.”
It was Ian. Niall hadn’t even realized his brother had entered the room. But he heard his words and sensed the shift in them, putting Niall in his place as the head of the whole clan. Not just a brother any more, but the Earl of Carregness, and much more importantly, the laird of the MacNair.
Niall wasn’t ready for this.
The door opened again and Rob hurried in, half-dressed but alert, his gaze immediately going to the figure on the bed.
“How is he?”
“Beyond all of us,” Maeve reported, her tone equally disbelieving and relieved.
Rob exhaled, a huge sigh that seemed to come from his soul. “Thank God,” he said. Then he looked to Niall, and straightened up. “What do you want us to do, my lord?”
My lord.How fast it happened,his siblings seeing him differently. Niall couldn’t blame them, but he didn’t want to be a lord now. He wanted to be himself, with his family.
“I want you all to sit with me,” he said abruptly. “Sit up with him till dawn. Then we’ll tell the world. But for now, it’s us.”
“Aye,” Maeve nodded firmly. She lit a few more candles, while Ian and Robert pulled more chairs near the bed. The older servant discreetly left the room.
Niall felt the presence of his siblings near him. They occasionally spoke—once, Maeve mentioned that she’d send word to Fionnuala so she could attend the funeral, and Ian suggested that they just put their father’s corpse in a boat on the shore and set it alight, the way the Vikings used to do. But for the most part, they sat there quietly, absorbing the truth of the old MacNair’s death.
Niall’s thoughts were chaotic, hopping from past to present to future. He wondered if he could send someone to rouse Heather, so he could have her near. But it was cold and dark and late…and it would be cruel to wake her at this point, simply for his own comfort. Death was not supposed to be comfortable.
He might have nodded off from time to time, because he was surprised when the shadows in the room faded and the lines became clearer as the dawn crept in. At last, Maeve stood up.
“I should get to work,” she said, her tone practical and unsentimental. “There’s so much to do for the funeral.”
Ian lumbered to his feet. “Aye, there’s messages to be sent, yes? Rob and I will handle that.” He looked at Niall. “Stay awhile, brother. We’ll see that you’re not disturbed.”
He shook his head. “I can help too.”
“As the MacNair, you’ll be busy soon enough,” Maeve noted. “Get your thoughts in order now. We’ll see things are started.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, to all of them. In one night, everything changed. What would happen now?
Chapter 17
When Heather woke, she immediatelysensed something different in the air—a haste and tension that hadn’t been there before. She went downstairs and found servants hurrying to and fro.
“What’s happened?” she asked Susan, who was bearing a huge pile of bedsheets.
“The old laird passed during the night,” Susan replied.
“Oh, my goodness! Where is Niall?”
“The laird is still at the deathbed,” the maid confirmed. “He stayed up all night.”
Heather turned around to take the stairs back up.The laird.Of course. All the titles and responsibilities came to Niall. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling now.
