Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) (26 page)

The hall was nearly full of clan folk now and all roared with approval. Already barrels of whiskey and ale were being rolled in and many had drink in hand.

Torra smiled when she spied her parents Iain and Arianna standing near her brother. They looked not only at him and McKayla with pride but all below.

When the great hall quieted, her brother continued.

“But there are others I would like to especially thank.” His eyes swept over their group fondly. “None of this would have been possible if not for my immediate kin who came to be known as the next generation and their Broun lasses. So to my cousins Ilisa, Grant, Malcolm and my brother, Bradon. And to the Brouns, my wife McKayla and her cousins, Sheila, Leslie and Cadence.” He again raised his mug. “I salute you. Thank you so much for all you have done to get us to this moment.”

Another rambunctious round of applause resounded.

Her MacLeod pulled her against him, his front to her back and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“But I’m not done.”

Though her brother’s words were not said loudly, all quieted beneath his commanding promise as he walked down the stairs.

Her love’s murmur-soft words came close to her ear, “Go on then, my sweet lass.”

Then he gave her a little nudge forward and stepped back.

The crowd parted so that her brother could come before her. He took her hand and looked into her eyes for a long moment. It almost seemed that the years fell away and she was once more a wee bairn sitting on the sill of a window as her big brother gazed at her with love.

His words were soft when he at last spoke. “Never could I have known that my little sister’s stone castle would lead to something so immense. And whilst I wish that scrap of black leather didnae end up in Keir’s hands, I suppose ‘twas always meant to be. In the end, it led to a peace that will keep many warm and safe at night.”

He cupped her cheeks as yet another tear slipped from her eye. “I am so verra incredibly proud of ye, my wee sister, and love ye more than ye could ever possibly know.”

“And I ye, Col,” she whispered.

It was as if the past ten winters and all that had happened finally broke free in pure emotion when her brother pulled her into his arms. She was no longer stuck in a tower hoping to protect her clan from herself. Nay, she was for the first time free. Not only that, she could take pride in what she was…
who
she was. To know she rose above so much fear and embraced something that though endangered them, also allied several clans and freed so many from Keir’s evil oppression.

All in the hall remained quiet as her brother held her.

Eventually, he pulled away and turned to the waiting crowd, his voice raised once more. “Above all, I am thankful to my sister, Torra MacLomain, dragon, for all she has done for not only this clan but all who are now allies!”

This time the roar of the crowd was deafening as weapons clanged. All yelled their approval not only in the great hall but far out into the courtyard and beyond. She’d never felt so humbled and Torra smiled her thanks to as many as he could.

Once the crowd quieted some, her brother urged Colin MacLeod to come forward. Soon enough, she and the MacLeod stood alongside.

Again her brother spoke, voice raised as he looked at the MacLeod chieftain. “Might I now take the opportunity to ask the MacLeod’s forgiveness that I didnae marry his sister Nessa MacLeod but am thankful for the years she spent married to my cousin Malcolm. Might their union be forever remembered well and may she rest in a peace that comforts her always in the afterlife.”

When Colin MacLeod nodded his acknowledgment, the applause was tentative but there.

Then her brother continued. “‘Twas obvious to all today that Laird MacLeod and my sister, Torra, share a deep love. For all who dinnae know, I have given my blessing that they marry. Might they forever prosper and our clans see many long years’ together and even stronger bairns.”

This time the response was not tentative but an uproar louder than all before.

Colin MacLeod didn’t hesitate to pull her into his arms and give her a long, thorough kiss. Though endless and well supported by the MacLeods and MacLomains alike, one random Scotsman’s cry above all made her pull away reluctantly.

“And what of we Hamiltons? We’ve lost our laird and his bairn in one battle. Who will lead us now?”

Silence fell. Long, thick, it felt like a heavy blanket over everything.

Torra felt Grant’s distress before she looked at him. Though it had been spoken of, she knew that her cousin was extremely reserved about leading the Hamiltons for several reasons. First, because the Hamilton castle held so many bad memories. Second, because he was not of their bloodline. Yet the Hamiltons loved him truly and she knew they’d have Grant as their leader in a heartbeat.

Colin MacLeod wrapped his arm around her lower back as a solid wall of support. One she imagined meant for them both.

A man she’d only met once stepped forward. “My name is Bryce MacLauchlin and like Grant, I was enslaved by Keir Hamilton fourteen winter’s ago. Not only did Grant train me to become the warrior that I am today but he was my friend.”

Bryce paused, obviously gathering his emotions as his eyes connected with Grant’s. “More than anybody, Grant suffered at the hands of Keir’s cruelty. But even so, he rose above it all and pulled together not only those who were by birth Hamiltons but so many of us who were not. Because of him we united and became proud to serve under not Keir but him, Grant MacLomain.”

Bryce again paused but not for long before his voice rang out. “I cannae help but say that I would like to stay on with the Hamiltons if mayhap Grant would be their laird.”

While all clans might have roared before, only the Hamiltons did now and it was, amazingly enough, far louder and more heartfelt.

“Listen now!” her brother roared and everyone slowly but surely quieted.

Torra grasped her love’s arm when a slender, blond woman started down the stairs. Grant made a strangled sound and was at the bottom to greet her. “Kenzie, I didnae think ye made it, lass.”

Though clearly weakened, she shrugged and grinned. “McKayla MacLomain is a good healer.”

Torra smiled as they embraced. Having taken a lethal sword thrust to her gut during the war that led to the castle siege, Kenzie was Grant’s good friend.

When Kenzie pulled back, she continued to hold Grant at arm’s length. “I’m still mighty weak so ye need to use your magic so that all might hear.”

Grant hesitated, obviously unsure he wanted to hear what she had to say, but at last nodded. “Aye then, lass. If ye need it so.”

“Aye,” Kenzie assured, attention turned to the crowd as she continued. “I am Kenzie MacLauchlin, sister to Bryce. Like him, I was taken fourteen winters ago by Keir.” She wore a look of disgust but pride nonetheless. “Except unlike Bryce, I was not trained to be a warrior but a whore.”

Murmurs rolled through the crowd, but Kenzie pulled back her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. “As many Hamiltons know, I became Grant’s whore…or at least that is what ye all thought.” She grasped Grant’s shoulder. “But nay. Grant was always my friend. Ours was but a show so that Keir would not abuse me or the other lasses forced into our line of work.”

Kenzie held Grant’s hand as she paused and looked over the crowd. “I have never met a more honorable Scotsman. They dinnae exist.” She notched her chin. “I watched him treat the whores as well as he did his warriors and as well as all Hamiltons, the old and young alike.” She gave a final nod. “Like my brother, I would be forever proud to stay on with the Hamiltons and call my new Laird, Grant.”

It didn’t matter if a warrior or a lass spoke on Grant’s behalf, the Hamilton warriors again roared long and loud with approval.

Grant meantime, gave Kenzie another brief embrace, then rejoined Sheila. Though happy to see Kenzie alive and pleased that his friends rallied for him, Torra sensed Grant’s relief when his wife’s hand slipped into his. Theirs was a strong bond that gave strength during difficult times.

Yet no matter how well-meaning his friends, Grant was expected to give a response.

Torra couldn’t help but notice how his brother, Malcolm and his Ma and Da, Coira and William stood nearby, another wall of support.

But it was not their eyes that Grant met. It was Colin MacLeod’s. Though Colin said nothing, she felt the strength in that one look. A strength that had forged their very friendship.

After what seemed like a long time but was just a scant few moments, Grant at last spoke to the crowd. “Though ye’ve only just learned that I was taken fourteen winters ago, what ye didnae know was that I, like many, suffered all this time. Though my first few years with Keir were brutal, I soon learned to become what he needed of me. Something far apart from the lad I once was. I betrayed ye I did.”

When silence reigned, Grant continued, eyes meeting many. “I betrayed myself and ye the moment I didnae tell ye who I was. The moment I relented to Keir and agreed to train ye.”

He paused. Pained, he said, “Dinnae ye ken? All these years training ye I knew I was an imposter. And though many of ye remember me being taken most of ye dinnae as ye were taken as well.”

“I
lied
to ye,” he said, voice raised. “Is that any sort ye want ruling your clan?”

A silence fell, but it was brief before a clansman toward the back cried, “Nay, ye didnae lie to us, Grant.
Keir
did.”

Before Grant could respond, another cried, “Ye treated us well when no one else would.”

Then another cried out, “Ye protected us from Keir’s whip one too many times and took the lash to yer own skin. Dinnae think we knew naught.”

Torra felt Colin stiffen behind her and tightened her hold over his forearm in hopes to keep their mutual pain at bay.

“Ye sat by me wee bairn when she ailed,” another yelled.

“Ye snuck me wife medicine when Keir wouldnae allow it,” another added.

On and on it went and the more it did, the more Grant appeared reluctant and confused.

Torra stepped aside when Colin MacLeod went to stand beside Grant. The men eyed one another for a moment before Colin raised his voice to the crowd. “Silent now that I might say my piece, aye?”

And, because a great deal of this crowd had long fallen silent to the words of Colin MacLeod and his first-in-command, all listened.

Colin looked out over the clansmen and let silence build before he at last said, “Did ye know I didnae like Grant when first I met him?”

Warriors muttered, clearly not sure how they should answer.

So Colin continued. “Nay, I thought him cocky and overly confident with a sword. But it seemed he had something to prove because instead of relenting beneath my blade he came at me harder.” The MacLeod shook his head and looked skyward. “‘Twas an ill thing for a youth with nothing but fury in his eyes.” Colin cocked a disbelieving brow at Grant. “But he kept coming at me again and again convinced that he was better than I.”

“What happened then?” someone asked.

Colin eyed Grant then released a low chuckle. “Let’s just say that the day finally came that our blades were equally matched.” Colin swung his eyes to the crowd. “‘Twas not long after that I learned the truth about Grant and all he had suffered. He and I were both taken by Keir against our will and though at first angered, we made the best of what life dealt us. And through it all we came to love the warriors beneath us. Not only ye but your kin. Your bairns and wives and parents. Gods did we love ye all.”

Though some shouted thankful responses, Colin continued. “But ye must remember that though we loved ye all so well, we’d also been taken from our kin. Our own families. Ones we loved verra much.”

All grew incredibly silent as Colin made a point of locking eyes with several Hamilton warriors. “Ye have the unending support of the MacLeods and the MacLomains until your new chieftain is found. If ‘tis Grant, aye ‘tis good indeed. If not, we’ll find another worthy of ye.” His voice lowered. “But might we not give Grant the respect well due him and allow him time to decide where he wants to spend his days? Might we forgive him if his path lies elsewhere?”

Again Colin paused, eyes meeting many. “Most importantly, might we not give him time to reconnect with his long-lost clan, the MacLomains?”

Another long silence stretched before a sword started to slowly bang off a shield somewhere far into the crowd. After another few moments, another clanging started. Followed by another. Then another. And another.

On and on it went, first starting with the Hamilton warriors until the MacLeods and MacLomains joined then all allied clans. Then, like an explosion went off, all roared their approval so loudly the floor vibrated.

Torra closed her eyes and said a prayer to the gods.

Grant would be given time.

Even as the MacLeod pulled her back into his arms, her brother once more raised his voice above the crowd, magically induced so that all heard him. “My wife has adorned the hall so that ye might rest from war and enjoy Christmastide with us. For those who wish to return to their kin now, we will get ye there in no time.”

All applauded and closed in around them as the pipes fired up.