Chapter 28 — Plaids

Families are the compass that guides us. They are the inspiration to reach great heights, and our comfort when we occasionally falter.

Brad Henry

A/N (Disclaimer): While I am a fan of the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon, my selection of Scotland was not driven by Ms. Gabaldon or the adaptation Starz is producing. I have had a healthy obsession with Scotland since youth, I believe in large part due to Sean Connery, who I picture as Malcolm McCullough in this and other fanfiction I have written. Plus, I started reading Outlander last year well after I wrote my first fanfiction with scenes in Scotland. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story. ~Swervin35

Bella's POV

By the time that Edward and I touchdown down in Dundee, Scotland, I was tired of traveling. We had another forty-five minutes or so longer before we reached Crail and McCullough Castle. I trailed Edward down the stairs of the plane, and I idly wondered how he would be received without Grandfather being present. The job of introducing Edward fell upon me. It had been some time since I addressed the clan, and I hoped I didn't botch it up. Grandfather had stayed in Forks, needing to return to Seattle for a short time to take care of a few things at the embassy.

A black stretch limo, with the clan's flag waving on the hood, was waiting for Edward and me when we exited the international arrivals building. Edward passed off the baggage cart to the driver as I headed to the open back door. It was already being held open by an elderly man that I haven't seen in years.

"Finlay!" I exclaimed, picking up my pace a little while praying I didn't start coughing.

"My lady," he responded, wrapping me up in a hug. "I could scarce believe it when told that you'd been found alive. The whole of the clan thought you dead, lass."

I pulled away, frowning. "And now?" I asked.

He smiled. "It's good to see you." His eyes moved to look beyond me. "Who do we have here?" he asked, switching from heavily accented English to Gaelic.

I knew who Finlay was eying. Running a hand through my hair, a habit I had picked up from Edward, I thought about how best to answer. I sighed and motioned for Edward join us. "Finlay, this is Edward Cullen. He was the one that found and rescued me. He's my savior," I answered in Gaelic, not that I really needed to.

"Is he now?" Finlay said. His gaze had moved from Edward to my left hand before settling on my face.

"What? Don't believe me."

"Nay, lass. The laird called and told me you were being escorted by your husband-to-be. I thought this might be him."

"Oh!" Grandfather had said he would inform the clan of my visit. It didn't occur to me that he would go into who would be with me. "Edward is my fiancé," I said with an embarrassed smile.

Finlay chuckled. "I know, lass. The laird gave me his name."

I swatted his arm and then climbed into the car.

"Pleasure to meet you, Edward. I'm Finlay, head of clan security."

"I take it Bella didn't like what you said," Edward remarked.

"That she didn't, lad. And be nothing to worry over. I was jesting with her about you."

"About me?" Edward peered into the car at me. His brow was furrowed. "What about me?" he asked.

I pointed to the ring he'd given me.

Edward covered his mouth with his hand, coughing to hide his laughter.

"Ah, nothing of consequence. It seems the laird didn't let her know what information he gave me," Finlay explained.

"No, he didn't," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Don't fash yourself, lass. He had nothing but good things to say," Finlay commented as Edward slid in next to me.

"Does the clan know?" Edward asked.

"They do," Finlay said, closing the door and concealing Edward and me in semi-darkness.

We were silent for a time, both lost in our own thoughts. It was Edward who broke the silence.

"I'm sure your grandfather was just trying to smooth the way, love."

I made a "hmphing" sound. It wasn't what Grandfather told Finlay but more his failure to tell me that had me upset. "It falls to me to introduce you in his absence," I said. "So, it would have been good to know."

Edward wrapped his left arm around me. "And you're not going to introduce me as your future husband, are you?" He sounded hurt.

I glanced over at him. A frown disfigured his handsome face; had it not been for the corners of his mouth twitching, I would have reassured him that I was going to tell everyone. Instead, I decided to tease him back.

"Like the clan would care one way or the other who you are," I answered.

The look he gave was one of disbelief—wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. I nudged it closed. "Honestly, Edward," I said, shaking my head. "I do plan on telling them."

"Good." He lowered his head, and his lips brushed my cheek.

Edward's POV

Bella rested her head on my shoulder. I knew she was tired, and had Malcolm not told me to land in Dundee, our drive to Crail would have been much longer. "We should be there soon, Bella," I said.

She "hmmed" before responding. "I know. I hope the welcoming reception is small."

I nodded, not up to meeting to many people right away; there would be time for that later. My mind was on getting to the caves and to safety. Malcolm had told me he would arrange for a small security team to go with Bella and me, so going to the castle could not to be avoided.

I looked down at Bella when she coughed harshly for a moment before a groan left her. "Can I take anything?" she asked in a raspy, winded voice, a little red in the face.

All the baggage was in the trunk, including the cough suppressant. I looked around for the call button so I could ask the driver to stop but couldn't find one. "Is there a way to speak with the driver without lowering the divider?" I asked.

She pointed to a phone I hadn't noticed. Finlay answered, and I explained the need to stop. In turn, he informed me that in the bar was a thermos with a toddy of lemon, honey, and a bit of rum and whiskey, but not too much to cause the drinker to become unstable on their feet.

"What's the legal drinking age?" I asked.

"She's old enough, lad," he answered, hanging up.

"Eighteen," Bella said as I put the receiver down.

I leaned over to the small bar, finding the thermos easily. The smell of alcohol wafted up when I unstoppered the metal container. "A bit of …," I said, scoffing and holding it away from me as I turned to look at Bella. "More like a gallon. Do you want to drink this?"

"It's just a shot glass full, and it can't be any worse than the cough medicine," she responded, pausing for a moment. "There should be some water in mini-fridge."

After pouring just under two fingers of the foul-smelling liquid, I handed Bella the shot glass. She eyed it dubiously as I again leaned over and pulled a small glass bottle of water out.

"Normally, it's filled almost to the top," she said, downing it. Her eyes got wide, and she gasped.

I handed her the opened bottle, wondering how she knew that. "So, you've had this concoction before?" I asked, trying not to snicker.

"No," she choked out, then chugged some water. "My throat's on fire."

I couldn't hold back and laughed. "Whiskey and rum will do that, but it should help loosen your chest," I said once I'd calmed.

She nodded. "I've seen people at the bar wince after downing a shot, but I never imagined it would taste worse than medicine."

"And that is why I stay away from the hard liquor, and I don't drink very often to begin with," I remarked, settling back in the seat.

Bella rested her head on my shoulder again, and I wrapped my left arm around her. "When you do, what do you prefer?"

I didn't have to think about this. "White wine," I responded, "and only a glass. I'd rather have unfermented sparkling cider or juice, if either is available, but every so often …" I shrugged, jostling her a little.

The car was starting to slow, and we passed what looked like a stone pillar with a guard in full ceremonial dress. Bella groaned.

"They shouldn't be in dress like that," she said, righting herself and looking out the back window.

I turned and saw three men on horseback following. "I take it that's not normal either."

"No," she said firmly. "But they're following whatever orders Grandfather gave them."

She reached over to the phone and picked it up, speaking to Finlay. I have no idea what she was saying, but I marveled at her fluency of the Gaelic tongue, like I had at the airport.

"Why, that sneaky, little devil," she remarked, slamming the receiver back down in the cradle.

I'd only seen Bella mad once, and her anger had been directed at Jacob then. What had Malcolm done? I didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"He's being overprotective."

"And that means what?" I asked.

"We are to be guarded until Jacob is dealt with."

"I see." I really did, and I agreed with Malcolm. "I'm sure it's for our safety," I said, instead of letting on that it was my request. Protecting Bella wasn't a question, but doing so while we were both asleep was.

She huffed. "I understand that. He's just going overboard."

Jacob had been on my mind the whole flight. If he was a warlock, then—I squeezed her close to me. "Where Jacob's concerned, no amount of protection will be enough."

The car had come to a stop, and by the look of dread on Bella's face, I could tell she needed a few more minutes. With a flip of my wrist, I locked both doors. Turning her to face me, I said gently, "There's no need to be afraid. I'll be right beside you, Bella."

Bella took a deep breath, nodding as she blew it out. "Okay. I'm ready."

No more than a second passed before the door was opened by Finlay. He said nothing as I got out and saw the keep for the first time. It was little more than a yellow-stone, four-story farmhouse, but then again, Crail was in the lowlands. There was a long two-story section jutting out of the south wall.

"That's where the great hall is," Bella said, slipping her left hand into my right.

Bella groaned when we were informed that a meal would be served in two hours and that select members of the clan would be present. Finlay showed me to a room where I could freshen up, ensuring me that Bella would be safe.

I hated being separated from her and was beginning to pace back and forth when I heard a creak from somewhere in the room. Spinning around, I found Bella peeking around a bookcase. Relief washed over me as I beckoned her further into the room.

She had changed into a blue, silver, and gold tartan dress that was amazing on her. "Beautiful," I remarked.

A blush spread across her cheeks. "Thanks," she said, coughing into her fist.

"That sounds a little better," I said, referring to her cough.

She nodded. "One of the maids gave me a lotion of eucalyptus, lavender, lemon, and peppermint oil to rub on my chest. She also gave me a vial of the mixture to put in a humidifier tonight."

I wanted to slap my forehead for not thinking of the other oils but refrained; instead, I brushed my fingers over her brow and down through her hair. She was cool, no fever present. Leaning in, I captured her lips between mine as my arms wound around her and drew her close like I've been wanting to do since saving her from Jacob. Her hands came up and pushed weakly at my chest, and I think she mumbled something about me getting sick, but I really didn't hear or care. Finally, she gave up trying to shove me away, and her wrist brushed my shoulders as her hands settled at the nape of my neck. Mindful not to wind her too much, I started giving her little opened-mouth kisses.

Bella's POV

Edward was slowly driving me mad with his tender kisses, and I was putty in his hands. Had there been an inkling of doubt of his love for me, it would have been chased away as I stood wrapped in his embrace, unable to stop his most welcomed attention. I noted his care in not exciting me too much, which might have caused me to start coughing and end the intimate caresses.

"Edward," I said on a giddy breath.

"Hmm," he mumbled against my neck as he planted some kisses there.

I shivered. "If I don't sit soon, I'm afraid I'll faint."

Stopping his administrations, he swept me up into his arms, moved to the nearest chair, and sat. "We can't have that now, can we?" he asked rhetorically, winking at me. "But I'm not ready to let you go yet and don't think I ever will be."

I felt the same way. A lot had happened since the last time he had held me close. "I can't blame you either," I remarked, snuggling further into his protective embrace. "That's why I snuck away once I changed clothes. I was a bit panicky after Finlay led you away from my suite."

He looked down at me. "Don't you trust the security team?"

I bit my lip. It wasn't a matter of trust, but a matter of them not having the necessary weapon to protect me. "Very few of them have magic at their disposal," I answered. "Only those in the elite guard would be able to protect me fully, and Grandfather knows better than to assign them in a time like this. Hysteria would spread like wildfire throughout the clan and—"

Edward silenced me with a kiss. "And nothing. Your grandfather told me about the elite guard, and I talked him out of calling them to duty."

I blinked.

"Four of them will go with us, though. I also had asked that we not be separated when we arrived, but he didn't listen."

I shook my head. "I requested the same, and he agreed. It's Finlay. He's a bit old-fashioned, and I was glad you didn't say anything."

He smiled, and his gaze moved to the bookcase. "How long were you in the passage?"

"Not long. My suite is two doors down." I sighed. "It was a dark walk, but I managed to find you."

He still stared at the bookcase while his left hand absently played with the ends of my hair. "Show me," he said after a few moments.

I remained on his lap, unmoving.

"Please, Bella. I don't think we'll make it to the caves today. So knowing where you will be sleeping and how to get to you unseen …" he said, trailing off.

Edward was right, and Finlay could deal with it; I had gotten used to having Edward's arms around me while I slept. So, I showed him how to open the hidden door in his room, the way to my rooms, and the secret to opening the door from the passage.

Once we had stepped into my suite, the door handle to the main hallway jiggled. The bolt-hole was still open, and I pushed Edward back inside and had securely shut the opening when Finlay came in. "My lady," he said with a bow.

"Master Finlay," I said formally, noticing the clanswoman behind him. It was one thing to address him informally when family was around but another now.

He eyed me a moment before introducing who he had brought with him. "My daughter, Myrna, is here to dress your hair."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at Finlay. This was a little too much. "I am very capable of fixing my own hair."

Myrna, curtsied, saying, "I'm sure you can, my lady. Would you consider some help, though?"

"Let her help you, love," Edward's gentle thoughts said in my mind. "I'll head back in case Finlay decides to check on me, too."

I nodded. "Do you think you can manage a braided Celtic knot?" I asked.

"Oh, aye, my lady. 'Tis my specialty," Myrna remarked, motioning to the dressing table.

A half hour later, my hair was done and I was deemed ready to stand before the clan.

Edward was leaning, cross-legged, against the wall across from my room when I exited. I swallowed hard when I took in what he was wearing—a kilt. The pattern of interlocking stripes was gold, red, blue, gray, and black tartan, complete with sporran and a crisp, white dress shirt. Raising an eyebrow, I silently asked where the plaid came from.

"Your cousin is here. He didn't want you to face the clan alone," he answered, offering me his arm. "And before you ask, I'm not brave enough to go commando."

"Not one of my questions," I said, giggling. "I thought the Cullen colors were black, grey, white, and gold."

"They are, but I'm wearing my father's colors," he remarked.

I glanced over at him as we descended the stairs. A smile was planted on his face. "I wonder how Ian knew."

Edward's shoulders started shaking. "I told him days ago before I proposed. He also made me a kilt in the Cullen colors, too."

We had reached the bottom of the stairs, and the doors to the hall lay in front of us. I was suddenly fearful. How would those gathered receive Edward?

A/N: The tartans described in this chapter were designed by me, and the images are on my website (see profile for link). I did look to see if there was one out there for the Cullen, Masen, and McCullough. I found information about the names but no plaid—other than those designed by others for their families personal use. So with copyright in mind, I designed my own. I just wanted to say that in case someone is aware of any kilt patterns for the families in this story.

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