Page 32 of An English Rose for the Highlander
You must do this, Rose. You will do this. You will maintain a flawless face as the Lady of the Castle. You will show them that they can accept you.
Her heart sank as it kept up its hurried pace. Rose could not help but think about the conversation she’d had with Dominik in her chambers. She’d confessed her deepest feelings, expressed so bluntly that it drained her every day to be this “perfect woman” for all to see. And while she still didn’t think Dominik understood it as such, he’d condemned her to another evening of that performance by doing this.
No, surely, he had been in search of a way to help her, to allow the clansmen the opportunity to evenmeether. However, the overwhelming pressure that landed on her shoulders to be exactly who they wanted in a lady was something she would have to carry throughout the entire event.
I shall have no singular moment to relax until this is through. But I can do nothing about that.
Upon exiting her chambers, dressed and made ready for thecèilidh, Rose attempted to steady herself with a deep breath, noting the tremble of her fingers. The nervous tension clung to her, but it was not a flattering appearance. She needed to appearconfident and in control in front of the clan as members arrived and funneled into the Great Hall.
As she walked down the corridor, quickly making her way toward the hall, Rose was still enamored with the unique look of the keep. She’d heard plenty of the Scottish castle of centuries ago. Unlike much of England, the homes Lairds would live in now were a lovely blend of medieval style and the romantic, residential look of modern houses.
So much of this particular keep looked like it had been plucked straight out of centuries passed, while still affording several of the modern comforts most people had come to expect. Massive chandeliers and robust wooden beams dominated the ceilings, while fine linens and tapestries adorned the walls. The overlarge fireplace behind the head table was glowing brightly as a fire roared, and guests funneled in from the main entrance, milling about and engaging in friendly conversation as they waited for the festivities to begin.
Greenery decked the chandeliers and arches, fresh flowers graced the tables, and the entire room smelled fragrant and fresh. People from across the clan lands had arrived at the keep, wearing their best finery, and laughter echoed in the corners. Numerous candles that lit up the room, guests taking up the entire space and spilling out into the corridors and the balcony above, and even the gentle sound of the pipers and fiddlers who played softly in the background.
It was all there. Each arrangement she’d made for food and décor, every person who Dominik wished to be there and more,and all the essential elements of acèilidhthat Rose would sooner be dead than forget.
And for a moment, she felt truly proud of her efforts.
Dominik, his noble Lairdship dressed in his finest kilt and jacket, stood near the head table. He spotted her quickly, his brows rising as he nodded and awaited her arrival at the table. Rose swallowed hard as she gracefully,carefully, made her way through the crowd and to the back of the long chamber.
She’d been given an heirloom gown of the family’s to wear, a matching tartan to Dominik’s kilt. It made her feel so much more like the lady the clan wanted her to be, but she was still terrified that she would not live up to the gift. So, as she approached her husband, she caught herself beginning to curtsey again and looked up at him quickly for any indication that she was being foolish.
Dominik only smiled in return, and her heart fluttered against her ribcage.
“Ye look bonny, lass. The dress suits ye.” Her husband grinned easily as he held out a hand and walked her around to the back of the table, where they would take their seats shortly.
“Thank you.” Rose forced herself to smile, that tightness in her throat dreadful, and she kept her voice to a whisper when she spoke next. “However, I must ask a question if you’ll allow it.”
“Aye, go on then.” His eyes twinkled with amusement, and Rose fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“You look so terribly calm, almost aloof. How do you manage it with the entire clan casting their appraising glances on you?”
Dominik’s smile only grew, making him appear all the more dashing with his dark hair swept back from his face and his attire formal and stunningly made.
“Ye forget, lass. I grew up in this. This is me home. I am used to everything the clan does anddoesnaedo. Ye will see.” He lowered his chin, looking directly into her eyes as he squeezed her hand. “Ye must focus on thecèilidh. Ye have done a marvelous job in such a short time. Ye should be proud of yerself.”
Rose was at a loss, genuinely shocked by Dominik’s words. It wasn’t as if her husband was a cruel or callous man. But to hear him praise her as such was something she’d never experienced before. And even in the past, when her parents did such things, Rose never felt truly seen. They applauded her hard work, but they did not understand it. How could they? So, their compliments felt… disingenuous.
“Your words mean so much, my laird. I am endlessly happy that you approve of the work, that thecèilidhmeets your expectations.”
“Och, ye flatter. I only tell the truth. And besides, ye cannae trust a man as famished as me to say more than that which is needed to speed along dinner.”
Rose knew he was jesting, and that in and of itself also warmed her from head to toe. And if she were honest with herself, he was indeed quite hungry herself.
“Honored guests of Clan MacKay!” Dominik called out, the music stopping as he turned to face the glittering assemblage of clansfolk from across his lands—theirlands. “We couldnae be happier that ye have all come to this gathering to celebrate a new future for Clan MacKay. Some of ye have traveled quite far, and the Lady and I are tremendously grateful. We have arranged a brawcèilidh, and it is now time for it to begin as all things should…with a feast!”
Raising his mug, Dominik cheered, and his entire keep followed suit, Rose herself lifting her cup. A loud toast echoed through the room, and the music began again as courses and ales flowed heartily to each table. The beautiful tunes that accompanied their meal and conversation were sung in both English and Gaelic. Rose couldn’t understand it all, but the haunting melodies were lovely regardless, the small flutes and harps and fiddles ringing in the grand open hall.
“Slàinte mhath,” Dominik offered, raising his mug toward her as they sat side by side.
“Slàinte mhath.” Rose grinned, her cheeks heating as she knew her pronunciation was not expert by any means. Still, she triedher best, and Dominik appeared to appreciate it, the corner of his mouth lifting all the more.
They drank deeply, Rose prepared for the bite of strong Scottish whisky this time, and soon rounds of food passed over their tables, filling their bellies until they were nearly bursting.
“Eilidh and the staff have done it again. The best meal I’ve had since my arrival.”
“Aye, a fine meal. And filled with so many familiar tastes that I almost feel as a child again, eating in the Great Hall during one of me faither’s gatherings.”
