Chapter 50

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The great hall was boisterous as the welcome home lunch extended throughout the day and well into the night. Men who had traveled with my father would return to their own towns and homes later, but tonight, safe again on Ellesmure's soil, they would swill their ale and shout bawdy jokes and compare their battle scars. After years spent enjoying a more domestic, empty castle, I found it all off-putting. Celebrating a war long-finished with the slovenly ruckus of thousands of ill-mannered brutes felt like a punishment. I slipped away from the festivities as early as I could and sought the quiet comfort of my rooms. Any discussion of importance could wait until morning. Or, afternoon, depending on everyone's hangover.

Feeling raw and prickly and inclined to annoyance, I forced myself into bed long before I was tired. I tossed and turned and fell into a light sleep. I woke in the dark when Alex squirreled his way under the covers and wrapped his long limbs around me.

"You reek of ale," I complained.

His apology was to laugh and ply me with sloppy kisses.

"Stop it, you traitor," I growled, pushing his face away.

"Traitor?"

I laughed at his wounded tone. "You got just as drunk as the rest of them."

"Oh, and you've never been drunk," he teased, biting my earlobe.

"I am the very definition of piety and temperance."

"Liar," his voice was a growl, it skated up my spine, made me shiver. Squeezing me tight to him, he fell asleep before I could come up with a retort.

In the morning, we went about our usual routine and after breakfast, Alex and I found ourselves in the study. Waiting. Alex sat in his usual perch across the desk from me. He studied the grand clock on the mantle as it ticked through the seconds. He looked bright and alert, no sign of last night's indulgence lingering in the lines of his face. I could only pray that I looked as presentable.

The incessant ticking of the clock made my skin itch.

"Surely he is coming," Alex said with a raised brow.

I huffed a laugh.

The transfer of power from me to my father was a stressful enough situation. There were so many details to review, items to discuss. I had hoped to speak with my father before starting the day's work — but even an hour after breakfast he had not arrived and now we were running behind.

"Maybe he is leaving it all to you," Alex suggested with false cheerfulness. He opened a logbook and started reviewing the information within. "Might as well get to work in the meantime."

I shook my head, "No. That's not possible."

There had been a little too much boasting and puffery on my father's behalf last night to understand that we would broker no argument on the MacLeod left in control of Ellesmure now that he was back.

"Well, if it becomes too much, join me later in the barns. There is a fair bit of work that needs to be done. Unless you'll once again be confined to the castle?"

I laughed, "I'd like to see them try."

Alex smiled, "Good."

Both of us started on our work, eager not to fall behind in our responsibilities.

After three hours, Alex threw down his pen and gawked at the door. "This is preposterous."

I laughed despite myself, about to joke that we'd at least maintain authority until lunchtime when my father walked into the room.

"Oh!" I said, standing up. "We didn't expect you!"

"There you are, Lord MacLeod," Alex said with a disapproving glower.

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