Eros (Contemporary Mythos Book 4)
Eros: Chapter 11

I’d spent most of the next day roaming the countryside, returning every half an hour to the cottage to check for messages from Graeme. The cottage was the only place I could get a decent signal being in the middle of nowhere. The festival didn’t start until sunset, but Graeme still hadn’t shown, and I worried if something happened.

It was my last attempt at checking my phone before I’d give up, my heels brushing the wood floor as I breezed past Flora.

“Still no sign of him, lass?” Flora bit back a frown as she sat in front of the stone fireplace in the lobby, reading one of her Highlander romance novels.

Nerves prickled the back of my neck. “He’ll show.”

“Chin up if he doesn’t, dearie.” Her frown deepened, and she tapped her finger against the book’s cover.

I lifted my head. “He will, Flora. I know it.”

After slapping on as convincing a smile as I could manage, I galloped up the stairs and to the window to regain the signal. My heart raced as I watched the bars go up, staring at the tiny envelope icon on my home screen.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Grimacing, I tossed the phone on the bed. It landed on a corner, bounced, and flew to the floor, dislodging the battery. I gasped and dropped to my knees, praying the expensive minicomputer still worked. After popping the battery back in, I took a deep breath and pushed the power button. Aside from the screen now appearing as cracked ice…it still worked.

I slumped on the edge of the bed.

I’d never done this without Dad. How pathetic would I look representing Clan Stewart alone? I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen anyone walking the torch by themselves. The sight of my kilt draped over the nearby chair made my heart swell with pride. Alone or not, I’d make Stewart’s presence known and reenact the loyalty pledge from days past. Da would typically be the one to say the pledge, but being it was the twenty-first century, I didn’t see one thing wrong with a woman saying it instead.

Swiping the kilt, I slipped into it, pulling the fly plaid sash over my left shoulder. I stared at the dingy full-length mirror and attached the clan brooch to the sash—a pelican feeding its young in a nest with the clan motto: Virecit vulnere virtus.

Courage grows strong at a wound.

My chest tightened as I ran my finger over the pelican, tears filling my eyes. Sniffling, I shook my head and pointed at my reflection.

“None of that, Lani girl. You don’t need Graeme to be here. You know this festival so well you could run it blindfolded. Time for a new chapter.”

There was still a tiny part of me that hoped Graeme would show up at the last possible second and sweep me off my feet. Another part of me wanted him to show up so that I could berate him for ignoring me. Wincing away the confusion plaguing my thoughts, I returned to the lobby, ready to have the time of my life with my fellow Scots.

Flora whistled as I descended the stairs, making my cheeks blush.

“Well, don’t you make a bonnie representative for Stewart?” Flora’s grin spread wide.

Flora was a vision in her Clan Wallace tartan—red and black plaid with thin yellow stripes. She always opted to wear the colors like a woman would’ve worn in the nineteenth century, wrapped around her shoulders with a muted long brown skirt.

My spirit lifted as I hugged her. “Is William standing with you?”

“Aye. He knows I’d kick him in the arse if not.” She winked and held out her hand. “Our spots aren’t far from each other. I’ll walk with you.”

Flora curled her arm with mine, and we braved the chilly nip in the air as we ascended the hills.

“Have you ever thought about movin’ here?” Flora lifted her chin.

“To Scotland?”

“Nay. To this very spot here on the ground.” She pointed at the grass and playfully swatted my arm. “Aye, Scotland. You always seem at peace here.”

“I never gave it any thought. It’s like another world here. I’d fear losing the fantasy of it all if I moved here, I suppose.” The moon appeared through the clouds, casting white and blue shadows over anything the light touched.

“You want to live in a fantasy world?”

Desperately.

“I’m no child, Flora, I know a fantasy is a fantasy, but when I come here every year, I can…pretend.”

The moonlight animated swirling shapes that resembled tiny sprites in my mind. They bounced from left to right, spreading the illumination like glazing sparkles.

“Here we are. Time to clan segregate, I suppose.” Flora patted my hand, slipping her arm from mine, but paused, gripping my elbow. “You sure you’re going to be alright?”

I snapped to attention, pulling on my long sleeves to cover most of my hands. “Absolutely. Go join William.”

William stood on an adjacent hill, his white hair competing with the brightness of the moon itself. He excitedly waved for Flora.

Flora gave me a quick peck on the cheek before hiking up her skirts and trotting over to William. “Hold your horses, ye old fop.”

The sound of my own breath breezing in and out of my nose quieted the low murmurs of surrounding clan members taking their spots. I forced a smile as someone handed me a lit torch. The flame flickered and popped, mesmerizing me with its unruly dance. In one swift motion, I could drop the torch and watch the fire transform anything and everything around me. Some it’d destroy, but other areas it’d touch…would be reborn.

“Clans at the ready,” a man shouted, his kilt swishing with every wide stride he took through the waiting groups.

The flame blurred as tears filled my eyes. I really was doing this alone. The sound of the horn blowing, calling the clans to gather at the centerfire made my chest swell and ache simultaneously. I took one step forward, my lip trembling as I fought back the emotions swirling through me.

A hand slid across my lower back. The long breath that escaped my lungs curled through the cool air like fog, and my eyes fell shut.

“Graeme. I knew you’d—” I whirled around, blasting my eyes open, and froze.

Eric smiled down at me, deepening his dimples. His blue eyes beamed as he trailed a hand over the royal Stewart sash adorning his chest.

“I—” The silence which held in the air stole away my words.

Eric stood before me in my clan’s tartan colors—red plaid. And it wasn’t just any kilt. It was a great kilt—the style they wore back in the days of Highlanders with extra fabric to fit as a cloak or used for carrying items. I said it before, and I’d say it again…the man looked good in plaid.

“Hi.” Eric nudged his knuckle under my chin.

A single tear rolled down my cheek.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go this alone, did you?” He raised his brow, tracing his thumb over my cheek, taking the tear with him.

The tears melted away, replaced with a wide grin, and I jumped, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He chuckled into my hair, returning the embrace.

“I could honestly kiss you right now,” I whispered.

How did he know Graeme wouldn’t be here? I couldn’t ask right now. No, not right now.

His warm breath skirted over my neck. “I’m going to hold you to that at some point.”

My body stiffened, but right then, I didn’t care. I really could kiss him for showing up in the nick of time, saving me from the awkwardness of presenting my clan alone. I’d have done what was needed, but having someone at my side—was worth its weight in gold.

“Hey Lani girl, be careful with that torch, aye? Don’t be a MacGregor.” A man from the Campbell clan shouted from nearby.

I looked up at the flame flickering dangerously close to a drooping tree branch and yelped, dropping to my feet. Tilting my head over my shoulder, I held the torch up to Campbell with a sheepish grin.

“Want to explain it all to me, so I’m not a uh…MacGregor?” Eric scratched the back of his head.

I bit back a smile. “We walk the torch down the hill and wait for the ‘Chieftain’ to call our clan. When he does, we walk forward, announce our presence, say the clan motto, and throw the torch into the larger fire.”

Holding the torch high, I watched for any other unruly tree limbs. Eric clasped his hands behind his back as we walked.

“I don’t know your clan motto.”

“Virescit vulnere virtus.” I grinned up at him, noting how the orange glint from the fire made his eyes a pretty cerulean color. “Courage grows strong at a wound.”

“Easy enough.” He slipped his hands into the folded part at the front of his great kilt, taking a moment to scan dozens of other torches making their ways over the hills like giant fireflies. “This is quite the sight.”

A warmth pooled in my belly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I know.”

My head snapped at him. “How?”

“You say you don’t believe in love, but it bursts from you. Passion for your family, for your culture, what is it if not love?” His head cocked to one side.

Tension coiled over my neck. “That’s a different kind of love.”

“Is it?”

I cinched my brow, forcing my focus on the embers floating from the torch. “There’s also a reenactment of swearing allegiance to the Chieftain. It’s a bit of a speech, so I’ll say it.”

“Anything I need to do?”

I appreciated he didn’t press me further on the whole “love” business. “Just kneel beside me and look pretty.”

His nose lingered near my ear. “You think I’m attractive?”

“You know you are.” I snorted, not minding how close he was. Warmth radiated from his cheek, and I wanted to nestle into it but didn’t.

“It sounds so much better coming from your lips, though.”

I turned to face him, the fire from the torch casting shadows over the sharp edges of his jaw—his high cheekbones. “How did you know Graeme wouldn’t be here?”

Eric frowned. “I’ve known plenty of men like him.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Eric sighed and took my free hand in his, grimacing from the chill on my skin. He cupped his hands over it and blew warm breath over my fingers. “Does it really matter that much to you, Elani? Can you just enjoy having someone beside you?”

The skin between my eyes creased. He was right. I focused on all the wrong things. But then—what if something terrible happened to Graeme, and that’s why he couldn’t answer any of my texts?

“But what if he got in a car accident or something worse?” My heart thudded at the same time my brain tried to slap me. It seemed they were in a constant battle as of late.

Eric’s eyes flew to the heavens. “He didn’t.”

I stopped walking, turning to face him. “How do you know, Eric?”

“He came into the bar right before I left.”

The world slowed around me, and my cheeks tingled as if tiny raindrops rolled down them.

“And he wasn’t alone.”

My bottom lip trembled.

Eric’s jaw tightened, and he slid an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you right now. This is supposed to be a happy moment for you.”

“There has to be an explanation,” I mumbled into one of his taut pecs, desperately trying not to grope it with the side of my face.

“You know, I’m surprised you’re not wearing the red Stewart tartan.” His deep voice echoed through his chest, pulsing against my ear.

“Why?”

He dropped his lips near my ear and whispered, “Because you look ravishing in red.”

What did he—my eyes flew open, and I pushed away.

Oh. My. God. The lingerie pic.

Heat flushed up my back, spreading to my neck and face with vigorous speed.

“Clan Stewart,” the “Chieftain” called out.

Mortification swarmed through me in unending waves.

Eric’s fingers trailed the back of my neck, making my spine feel like warm apple pie. A snarky grin spread over my lips, and I felt tipsy—but wasn’t. Not one drop of alcohol.

“Clan Stewart, aye!” I cried out, holding the torch up while Eric yelled the same alongside me. “Virescit vulnere virtus.” He said it word for word with me without hesitation.

I snuck him an appreciative smile, and he gave a botched wink. Stepping forward, I sunk to one knee, removing a small dagger from a folded pleat of my kilt. Eric knelt beside me with questioning eyes but following my lead nonetheless.

“Clan Stewart gives our fealty and pledges our loyalty. If our hand should ever raise against you, we ask this dagger replace our hearts.”

I spied Eric’s brow lifting from the corner of my eye.

The man playing as Chieftain bowed his head with a warm smile, and I rose. He sipped from a pewter cup with two handles on each side—a Quaich filled with scotch, before handing it to me. I took a gulp and gave it to Eric. After drinking, he held the cup in his hands, drumming his fingers on the sides. I motioned with my head for him to hand it back to the Chieftain. The tradition came from long ago with the sharing of the Quaich symbolizing a bond formed.

They called the remaining clans one-by-one as we all stood around the massive centerfire. Even with its size blasting heat in all directions, a chill settled into my bones. I rubbed my arms, regretting not bringing a sweater instead of the thin fabric of my long-sleeved shirt. A red tartan curled around my shoulders, a warmth pulsing from behind me.

“You looked cold,” Eric’s smooth voice rolled over my neck like liquid chocolate.

My breath hitched as I rested my back against his chest. I’d imagined a moment like this since I was a little girl still believing in fairytales and warrior princes. A Highlander would wrap his great kilt around me after a long-winded battle, and we’d gaze at the rolling green meadows, relishing the quiet—the wind whipping over us the only sound.

“Thank you.”

“I had all this extra wool fabric going to no use.” He smiled into my hair.

“Yes, for warming me. But mostly for showing up here. It’s a bigger deal than I think you realize, Eric.”

“I know our relationship started with a bit of…animosity, but—”

Relationship. My toes curled inside my shoes.

“A bit of animosity?” I grinned.

“Alright, more than a bit, but I’d like to think we’ve moved past that.”

We had. At some point in the middle of all the verbal jabs, there were genuine moments of realism. I’d dare say even…flirtation.

“I really thought Graeme was special. I’m so stupid.”

His arms tightened around my shoulders. I nuzzled my nose into the warm tartan, letting the scents of fresh laundry and cinnamon sharpen my senses.

“There is one out there for you. You may not believe it, but I know there is. Just remember what I said before…”

My heart thumped so quickly I could feel it in my stomach. “Eyes and ears open.”

“Exactly.” The light bit of stubble on his cheek brushed against my forehead.

“The act we performed today has formed a bond between us all,” the Chieftain announced after the last clan stepped back. “And with this also comes a promise from me to you. A promise to serve you as you promised to serve me.” He pointed to the roaring fire behind him. “This fire will not be lit again until the time has come for us to go to war.”

I’d seen it played out over a dozen times, but it still never failed to bring me to tears. Eric swiped his tartan over my cheeks, making them disappear as soon as they’d left my eyes.

“Thank you all for coming from far and wide to celebrate our ancestors as we do each year. I know I only play the part of a chieftain for show but I’d like to think we have formed a kinship.” He moved his focus from one face to the next with a resounding presence. “No matter what clan we hail from, or what part of the globe we call home, we will always remain Scotsman and have this time to cherish.”

Whistles, whoops, and clapping roared around us.

“Now for the important bit. Time to feast! And drink!” His smile widened as he threw a fist into the air.

A chuckle floated from my belly as I watched everyone scurry toward the canopy they’d set up near the fire. We were to eat until our stomachs burst and drink until we couldn’t see straight.

“Did I do all of it right?” Eric asked as he slipped one half of the tartan away for us to walk side by side.

“Is this your way of getting me to say you were right about something again?” My cheeks warmed when I looked up at him.

He laughed. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You were perfect. You don’t have to stay for the party, you know?”

He pulled me tighter to his side. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated. You don’t know any of these people.”

“I know one person. That’s all I need.”

My heart pitter-pattered against my ribcage, and my mind betrayed me, dipping into thoughts about Graeme. Eric told me he saw him with another woman, and yet I still made excuses for him. I needed to stop thinking about it—about him. There was a man at my side with his arm around me, walking to a party I’d been looking forward to all year. And it wasn’t Graeme.