Elsy cradled the baby in her arms. “Alistair,” she whispered while pacing back and forth, unable to stop looking at her son, birthed only a week before. “My beautiful, sweet Alistair.”
“Can I hold him?” Scott asked, holding out her arms.
Elsy smiled as she nodded and carefully handed Alistair to Scott. She watched the girl smile sweetly down at her new baby brother, taking in Scott’s long hair, now in a plait going down the length of her back. She was becoming a woman. It was so strange to see her now, compared to when they first met. Scott looked so beautiful in her blue dress.
The door opened and both Elsy and Scott turned, finding Connell standing in the doorway, looking sheepish. “Is he asleep?” Connell whispered while tiptoeing inside.
Elsy nodded. “I just got him to sleep.”
“The lairds have arrived. Father wants us to greet them.”
“Now?” Elsy asked.
“I can watch him,” said Scott while moving to sit in a chair in front of the window. “I’ll be here if ye need anything.”
Elsy pursed her lips, not wanting to leave her son alone, but knowing as the new Lady MacArthur she had duties to attend to. She gave a curt nod and allowed Connell to guide her out the door. As soon as it clicked closed, she wanted to rush back to Alistair’s side.
“It will be alright,” said Connell while patting her hand. “A short greeting and then ye will be back at his side again.”
Elsy sighed. “I suppose ye think I’m foolish.”
“Not at all,” said Connell while brushing her hair away from her face. “I could never find a good mother foolish.”
Elsy blushed under his gaze and leaned into his touch. “Thank ye, Connell,” she whispered. “Yer a good father, as well.”
Connell grunted. “And a good husband.”
Elsy chuckled and shook her head. “Humble, as always.”
“Aye, tis a lad,” she heard Laird MacArthur boom. The man hadn’t stopped speaking about Alistair since he had entered the world. Elsy thought it both endearing and frustrating the way he spoke of his new grandson, as if he could already lead men into battle. “He’s a strong lad, too. Takes after me, I tell ye.”
Connell and Elsy shared a look before breaking into a fit of laugher. “I wonder if he will ever stop boasting?” Connell chuckled, his voice soft as they drew closer to Laird MacArthur and the group of elderly men surrounding him.
“I don’t expect him to anytime soon,” Elsy whispered.
“Ah,” Laird MacArthur called, gesturing toward Elsy and Connell. “And here they are now. The happy new mother and father. This is my son, Connell.”
Connell bowed his head dutifully. “A pleasure,” he said under his breath.
“And his lovely wife, Elisabeth.”
“Ye may call me Elsy, if ye wish,” Elsy said with a quick curtsy.
“Tis a pleasure to finally meet ye,” said one burly Laird with a portly stomach and pinked cheeks. His beard was white and thick while the top of his head was completely bald. He was Elsy’s height, not very tall compared to the other lairds surrounding him, but Elsy immediately liked him. He seemed genuinely kind and looked her straight in the eye.
“I am Ferguson MacDonald and this,” Ferguson frowned as he looked around, “well, where is she?”
Elsy looked around, not knowing exactly who Ferguson wanted to introduce her to. She suspected it was his wife, but her gaze landed on Brann, speaking to a woman dressed in a beautiful red gown. Elsy tilted her head, wondering if the woman worked in the kitchens, but her attire was too immaculate to be a servant girl. Her brow furrowed as she noticed Brann’s freckled face, flushed bright red as the girl smiled up at him.
After Connell returned to the MacArthur clan, his men had all gone their separate ways. Connell still spoke with Donald and Grant, who worked alongside Robert the Bruce, protecting Scotland from the ill wills of the English. Unfortunately, Donald had written that Glenton was able to talk his way out of the rope, given the lack of evidence against him. Elsy had given her testament, but it had been her word against his, and a woman didn’t have much say in a man’s world. Grant and Donald had been keeping an eye on Glenton, should he harm any others.
Elsy smiled as she thought of Ian, who had met a sweet lass from the local village. They had married soon after Elsy discovered she was with child. She suspected it wouldn’t be long until they expected their first.
Brann, unlike the others, had decided to follow Connell, pledging his loyalty to the MacArthur clan, and becoming a guard tending to the walls. Often, he was patrolling the battlements, however, today he had become distracted from his duties. Elsy didn’t blame him, for the young woman was quite beautiful.
Elsy covered her mouth, trying in vain to hide her smile as Ferguson called, “Edina, lass, what are ye doing over there? Come over here and meet Laird MacArthur’s son and daughter-in-law.”
Edina turned around, a soft smile on her lips as she sauntered toward them. Elsy’s smile grew as she watched Brann quickly stalk away toward the battlements. She noticed the confused look he cast toward Edina before continuing up the steps.
“Good day,” said Edina while curtsying low before them. “My name is Edina. I am Laird MacDonald’s daughter.”
Ferguson beamed, displaying his pride, and Elsy found him absolutely endearing. She peeked up at the battlements, her smile growing. “And how long will ye be staying with us, Laird MacDonald?” Elsy asked.
Ferguson chuckled, his stomach shaking with the movement. “Through all the festivities, of course.”
“Wonderful,” Elsy muttered, earning a perplexed look from Connell. She shook her head at him, her smile filled with promise. She would explain to Connell later what she had seen between Brann and Edina. “It will be our pleasure to have ye.”
Edina smiled brightly and Elsy guided her inside, excited to share in this new life with Connell, within this castle she never thought she would be welcomed in. Finally, they had a family together, and soon, it might grow even larger.
Small hands gripped the wooden sword, taking it from Gawain before suddenly swinging at him. Gawain was quick enough to evade the first attack on his knees, but was not as lucky as another attack came from behind him, a wooden sword smacking the back of his legs, causing him to hiss in pain as he stepped out of the range of the two boys.
“Ha! I got a hit in!” His second son, Ian jubilated. Throwing down his sword as he ran over to his scowling father. “I hit ye, so I win. That was the rule!”
“Nae! The rules are nae fair, and this sword is nae good enough. ‘Tis too small. Give me a proper sword, and ye will see if I’ll nae get a hit in.” Gawain only shook his head at his oldest. Fingal was aggressive almost every day of his life. There was no way Gawain was going to hand over a sword to the angry child.
“Fingal, ye need to practice before ye can use a real sword or else ye will end up cutting yerself in half before ye even nick yer opponent. And I already showed ye how to grip the sword. Yer stance was off as well. If both are nae accurate, ye cannae get a good hit on yer opponent.”
In response to his father’s lecture, Fingal tossed the wooden sword at Gawain’s feet. “I do nae even want a sword! I want some other weapon.”
“Well, what if I gave ye a short sword or a dagger?” Gawain produced two other wooden weapons from the ground behind him, but Fingal scoffed at them.
“I want a bow and arrow.” Gawain nodded, impressed that the boy was willing to try out different weapons before turning to his younger brother, who shrugged.
“I want a sword. Bow and arrows are useless when ye’re in close combat battle, which most raids and wars will contain. Arrows are only fer defense.”
“Well—”
“Ye just do nae want to use it because the only thing ye ken how to use is that stupid sword,” Fingal accused, and Gawain immediately stepped back, knowing a fight was about to break out. The last time he intervened in a fight between his boys, he not only sprained a finger, but Fingal almost bit off his hand.
“At least ken how to use a sword. Ye keep switching weapons because ye don’t ken how to use anything properly!”
Gawain backed away from his children to go stand next to his own brother. “I never will understand why they always fight over little things.”
“Well, squabbles are normal between siblings and how is yer hand, by the way?” Gawain turned his hand over to see the healing skin that had taken the shape of a bite mark on his palm. “Healing quite well, I see. They remind me so much of ye when we were younger. ‘Tis like Davinia managed to create two other versions of ye, ‘tis amusing at times.” Caillen laughed as Gawain looked back at his sons.
They had an interesting relationship. Fingal was born only a year after his marriage to Davinia, and Ian came along three years later. Gawain would not exactly call them polar opposites as both boys had loud and brash personalities. Fingal only took it to the next level.
An angry child who stomped about the keep with a scowl on his face, almost daring someone to talk to him and surprisingly, even if Davinia would never admit it, he was her favorite. His brother, on the other hand, was friendlier but only to a certain limit. It was not uncommon to see both boys squabbling, arguing, or full-on fighting about something. Gawain was sure they hated each other at some point until Caillen’s last child was unfortunate enough to play a cruel joke on Ian in the presence of Fingal. It was not a situation either Gawain or Caillen wanted to remember.
A loud cry caught the attention of Gawain. Fingal had managed to wrestle his brother to the ground and had his head pinned on the floor with his knee. Gawain sprang into action just as fast as Caillen did. While Gawain snatched up his more abrasive son, Caillen helped the other off the ground. Ian tore himself from Caillen, grabbing a handful of sand as he did, but before he could fling it at his brother, who was still struggling in the hold of his father, Gawain turned around, using his body to shield the sand attack from Fingal.
“Oi, what is the matter with both of ye!” Caillen grabbed Ian by the scruff of his shirt as Gawain turned around, Fingal still wildly kicking at the air.
“He said I was weak!” Fingal kicked up sand at his brother, and Ian did the same to retaliate.
“Well, ye’re! Ye cannae even hold a sword properly, and ye’re older than me,” Ian shot back.
“Oi, do nae say such things to yer brother.” Caillen dragged Ian back as he made to kick up sand once more.
“He insulted me first!” Ian accused, and Fingal scoffed, looking away from his brother.
“Listen to me, the both of ye. I’m starting to get tired of yer fights. If ye keep fighting like this all the time, how will ye be able to work together when ye grow up?” Gawain shook Fingal almost harshly when the boy scoffed again.
“Aye, yer father is right. Ye two have a certain part to play in making sure the clan continues to thrive long after we have gone. Our duties will fall onto ye, and if ye’re to work with another person to get proper results, ye’ve to ken how to work together, trust each other and certainly nae try to take each other’s eye out.”
Gawain let go of his son’s arm, and Caillen let go of Ian, both on alert in case either boy decided to pounce on the other.
“Lads! I’m back.” Gawain looked in the direction of the entrance where Davinia stood with Emer by her side, a basket of what Gawain knew were treats in her hand. Almost immediately, both boys took off, scampering toward their mother or, to be specific, toward the basket. Davinia was faster, and she raised the basket high, earning whines from her sons.
Gawain caught up to his sons, pressing a kiss to his wife’s hair as Emer left to meet her husband. “What did the healer say?” He had been frightened when she claimed she felt faint the night before during supper and sent her to the healer with Hansel as her guard. She did look much better than she did in the morning before she left.
“Ah, nothing much.” Davinia finally lowered the basket allowing the boys to take their fill of the sweet treats. “Do nae eat too much now.”
“Aye, ma,” they chorused, mouths full, and Gawain shook his head at them
“I do nae ken how they will be when they grow a wee older. They are practically monsters at this point. I do nae ken how ye deal with them.” Davinia chuckled as she took his hand in hers.
“Patience, dear. Ye are just as hot-tempered as they are.”
“If it is ye, I cannae argue with that. But really, tell me what the healer said.” She hummed to herself as she leaned her head against his shoulder and she watched her sons resume their training, this time with their uncle as their instructor.
“I think our boys will grow into marvelous gems.” She mused, causing Gawain to turn to the boys as well. Sure, his sons were rough around the edges, they were still good at heart.
“Even if they only have one responsible parent. I’ve nae idea what I’m doing half of the time.”
“I suggest ye learn quickly, and ye can impress the third one.”
“The third one, aye.” Gawain fell silent as he turned back to his wife when the realization of what she had said hit him. “The third one?!”
“Aye! The healer said I’m with child again.” Davinia grinned as her husband swept her off her feet.
“We are having another child? Are ye teasing me?” He asked, looking around until he caught the eyes of his brother. “Caillen, I’m going to have another child!”
“Good fer ye, Gawain. That is precious news, but Davinia, can ye nae spit out another version of yer husband. ‘Tis starting to get painful.” Caillen winced when Ian’s wooden sword hit the back of his legs for the second time, more of a smack than a strike. “And I mean really painful.”
The sun was terribly bright, and the seagulls squawked so loud that they could be heard from the pink stone harbor all the way to the luxurious palace, made in the Southern style, with black and white striped pillars and glittering domed roofs. A methodic call went out through the city, and Kyle wandered to the balcony, his soft silk robe hanging open, blowing out from his waist in the warm wind.
He leaned his elbows on the smooth stone railing and looked out at the exotic city. It was a fascinating place, and like nowhere he had ever seen. About a fourth of the city’s population answered the call to prayer, and Kyle watched them in the streets and on their roofs and in the markets go to the ground in prayer.
“You’re up early,” Laila said, approaching from behind and gently wrapping her hands around his waist.
“It’s too warm here to sleep late,” he answered, leaning over to kiss her good morning.
“Indeed,” she agreed, kissing him back and then smiling.
“I’m moving out today,” he said to her, his voice growing a bit more serious.
“Yes,” she said, “And I’m coming with you.”
“I thought that was only to happen the once?” he replied with a grin.
“Too late for that already,” she said back, and they kissed once more.
“I am sure the fortress will be even grander than the palace,” Kyle said, raising his eyebrows.
“How can they build such grand things?” Laila asked, glancing out from the balcony toward all the buildings stretching out before them.
“Perhaps, it is the heat,” Kyle answered, spinning her around as to face her head-on.
“It is remarkable, isn’t it?” Laila added, and they shared a long, tentative kiss on the balcony, letting the Spanish breeze blow through their thin garments and tussle their hair.
They stood together for a while longer, letting the climate warm their bones as the sun began to shower the city with its radiance. The harbor’s water reflected the dazzle up at the walls of the port structures, and the happy couple drank in the salt air.
“Kyle,” she said, drawing back, a bit of seriousness creeping into the edge of her mouth.
“What is it?” he asked.
“How would you like to be a father?” she asked, looking deeply into his eyes.
“How would I like it?” he asked, smirking briefly before he settled on her gaze and then suddenly looked down to her torso, the world spinning around him. “Do ye mean…?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Well, I should like it very much!” he exclaimed and lifted her up, spinning her around with the warm ocean breeze. They kissed again and slowly edged back into the palace chambers, letting down each other’s clothes and laying down for a while, letting the morning slip away past their naked, loving forms.
Eventually, it was time to go. The noon bells wrang, and they reluctantly got out of bed, taking a few more playful swipes at each other while they got their garments in order, and finally went out into the day.
They were staying in the East Wing of the palace, and they walked through the lush gardens that draped the walls and city overlooks as they made their way to the main yard. Yard was quite simply an understatement. It was a gorgeous courtyard, complete with fountains and small gardens that filled the corners. The floor itself was a striking checkerboard, and in the middle of it stood a fresh batch of recruits, waiting for Kyle’s instruction.
Word of the Scottish victory over the English almost thirty years ago had spread far and wide throughout the world, and one element of the victory had been particularly important to the Spaniards when they listened—that of the spearmen repelling the English heavy horse.
In Spain, the wars between the Christians and the Muslims raged endlessly on, and one area of warfare that the Spanish continuously found themselves outmatched was that of heavy cavalry. The Moorish riders were fearsome foes and often baited Christian knights too far afield, only for them to find themselves ambushed in the pursuit.
It was a brutal cycle, and it cost the Spaniards more horse and armor than they were prepared to lose if they ever hoped to prevail in this ideological battle for the Spanish subcontinent. So it was that the local lords, from Baron to Dukes, sought out Scottish mercenaries to teach their men the art of the hedge wall of spears and fighting heavy cavalry, and it was this relationship that brought Kyle and Laila to the Kingdom of Castille.
It wasn’t particularly hard work, nor dangerous, for Kyle did not ride off to fight, save for a few times. Mostly he just advised, and Laila was there to correct him when he was wrong and drink in a foreign land’s cultures.
They spent the afternoon in the Spanish sun, running the new Spanish levies through a series of formations with their long spears—much longer spears than they were used to wielding—which made for a tedious training process. But Kyle ran them through the drills regardless, and eventually, they began to learn.
The English were not that foreign to the Spanish, for the English presence at Bordeaux was not terribly far away, and the Norman culture had spread as far as Sicily, but Kyle’s thick accent and his bright red hair drew all sorts of looks and laughs. However, they stopped laughing when they saw how quickly he could put a man on the ground in the training yard and how perfectly he thrust out his spear in demonstration.
“Right, lads!” he called, hunkering down in formation. “And step! One! Two! Three! Four!” and they advanced across the courtyard, thrusting out their spears like the hoplites of old and the Scotsman of the Bruce’s great army.
Laila sat with some of the other ladies in the court, watching the training procedures and smiling when Kyle did just about anything. The other ladies laughed and talked about how clearly in love they were, professing their jealousy and complementing their life. Laila barely heard any of it, just nodding politely and smiling when she thought it proper. That sort of gossiping life was not for her. Instead, she preferred to watch her husband perform his duties, looking terribly good while he did it, and give him notes, carefully building his routine together until he was known as the greatest Scottish mercenary in all of Hispania.
“You were too loud today,” Laila said, rolling over him in bed that night.
“Tae loud?” Kyle gawked. “I’m tae train them. I must be loud.”
“There is a difference between loud and commanding,” Laila said, tracing the lines cut in his chest by his fierce muscles. “You must be the latter.”
They stayed awhile in Castille before moving West to Galicia, down to the Southern border with the Emirate of Portugal, where the fighting was thicker at the time. They both became distinguished, Laila for her wit and charm and Kyle for his prowess and tactical genius.
The King of Galicia heard of the two foreigners in his Kingdom and invited them to the capitol in the North, where they lived just short of the standards of royalty for a time until their child was born, a strong and healthy boy they named Robert, after the King. There were more Roberts born to Scots that generation than any other time in history.
The King was so enamored with the pair that he offered them permanent residence there in his palace, but they declined after considering it for a moment. When the King asked why clearly slightly upset by being told ‘no,’ they simply smiled and said there was more of the world to see.
From Hispania, they went to Italy, where little Roger learned how to walk and hold a sword. There they found patronage in the court of the Count of Sienna and advised on the constant military struggles that the local landowners engaged in time and time again. Italy, they liked, but not as much as Spain.
From Italy, they went to Greece, where the politics of the Roman Empire were overwhelming, and altogether too much, they decided, so they did not stay long as the Ottomans began creeping into Anatolia, winning battle after battle, and so they fled to the Holy Land.
Robert grew to the height of a man in Antioch, and they entered into the Lord of Tripoli service, where they stayed until Robert was eighteen, and thoughts of home became more and more pervasive. They had been abroad a long time, and their son was now a man. It was high time for him to see the lands they hailed from, and so they brokered passage back halfway across the world.
They made port in Sussex and traveled North along the roads of England, showing young Robert the countryside that he had never known, feeling the cold breeze and laughing as their son shivered in the English cold.
“If ye think this is cold,” Kyle chuckled to him, “Wait until we get tae Scotland.”
After a few weeks of leisurely travel, they came to Willby Valley and stopped for a moment to look down at the small castle in the distance. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it looked far more maintained than it ever had, and the banners blew brightly in the strong North wind.
Beyond the valley to the North stood the tall, proud Scottish mountains Kyle had grown up in, and seeing them sent a chill down Kyle’s spine. They stood there like an immovable statue, welcoming him home with a solemn grin.
“What are those mountains?” Young Robert asked, gesturing with a nod.
“Scotland, son,” Kyle answered. “They are Scotland.”
“We shall be there soon enough,” Laila said, spurring her horse down the track that led through the valley to Willby castle. “Come on then!”
“Ye gonna let her win?” Kyle asked with a grin, and Robert went off after his mother, trying to keep up along the narrow road as they rode down into the valley.
They came at last to the bottom, where the road flattened out and eventually looked up toward Castle Willby, and Laila smiled to see it so well maintained, with new stonework around the base of the walls and new banners hanging from the freshly cut parapets. It was altogether a different castle than the one Laila remembered, but it was still home, and it was beautiful.
Kyle came up beside his wife and son, and the three of them stood on the valley floor, looking up at Willby castle, drinking in the view as the Northern air continued to wash over them, sending more shivers down young Robert’s spine as he struggled to adjust to the air that blew from the frigid North Sea.
“Where are we?” the boy finally asked, glancing strangely between his parents, who seemed to be sharing some long-forgotten memory of the walls they looked upon without speaking. They were quiet for a time and shared a look with one another that Robert found all together a bit uncomfortable but made them smile and laugh.
At long last, Laila turned to him, and with a smile, said, “Home, son. We’re finally home.”
It was almost a year since her necklace had first gone missing. Myra thought about it often, although the sting of learning about the truth of her mother had lessened as the months wore on. There were other things for her to worry about as soon as she moved to the MacKay castle, such as being introduced to the unfamiliar faces within the castle and the clan.
At first, the entire premise of such a thing had been too daunting for Myra. She had clung to her husband’s arm like a lifeline, not enjoying the way that some of the women would look at her. However, the people from the towns around warmed to her quickly whenever she would appear at public events. Myra hadn’t ever been received so well before, but she welcomed the warm smiles that the people of the nearby towns wore when they saw her.
She was standing within the chambers that she shared with her husband. Thomas was somewhere else in the castle, but Myra hadn’t paid too much attention to where he said he would be. Instead, she was busy staring at the way that her stomach darted out from her dress as though she was attempting to smuggle a large bowl of sorts beneath the material. Her hands rested around it, framing it as though she was posing for a painting.
The child within her was moving and kicking against her, as though prematurely trying to meet her before the physician said that she would be ready to give birth. She still found it incredible that she was going to be having a child, that her body had been capable of creating another life.
Myra had spent the last week rather anxious, which many of the women in the court had told her would be no good for the baby. She was anxious because her brother was riding to meet her at the castle before the birth; he wanted to be there to make sure that she would be all right. Myra had welcomed the idea that she would have someone of her own blood around the castle while she was between the liminal stage of pregnancy and motherhood.
Philip had returned to France for another year. Myra had heard from Thomas that his brother was incredibly excited to visit the serving girl that he had fallen in love with during his previous travels to the country.
Myra could tell that Thomas was missing his younger brother, however, it was also clear that he was happy for him. She remembered how excited Philip had been in the days leading up to the beginning of his trip; he had appeared as though he were but a child, unable to do or eat anything until the event that he looked forward to had arrived.
Thomas had been pained to watch his brother ride off without him, but Myra had already suggested the possibility of going to visit him soon. She wasn’t sure how possible that would be now that they were going to be starting a family of their own, but she still wanted to entertain the idea for him to give him some hope.
“I hope that he does nae think of the clan and our father when he meets with that girl again,” Thomas said with a sigh one evening. “He always looked so in love when he spoke about her.”
“Do ye think he will marry her?” Myra had asked while holding onto his hand.
“Aye,” Thomas said while perking up a bit. “I do, and I think that he will be incredibly happy if he does so. People over there will talk, and I’m sure that people back here in the castle will talk too, but Philip will nae be the laird after our father. I have that responsibility, and that means he is free to marry who he wants.”
“Are ye ready to be their new laird?” Myra asked while casting him a slightly hesitant glance.
“I’m nae sure if I will ever be ready for such a challenge, but I will always promise to do the best that I can for our people.”
Our people. Myra always held onto that comment with a small smile, and she felt incredibly grateful in the knowledge that he held her with such a high regard.
Myra tried to imagine Thomas as the laird of his clan. It was a rather intimidating thought that she would lead by his side. He was going to be making many decisions that would affect people greatly, and people would look to him for guidance.
She jumped slightly at the clicking sound of the door. Myra held a hand to her chest as she saw the dark shape of her husband enter the room. His face lit up as soon as his eyes landed on her, and Myra couldn’t help but smile back at him as she nodded to him.
“I see that ye are nae listening to the physician’s advice?” he asked with a slight chuckle. Myra could only shrug her shoulders as he walked over to her.
“I dinnae ken if ye have ever had to take to bed for an entire week, but I cannae spend so long off of my feet,” she admitted.
“I see,” Thomas laughed. “I’m sorry to say that this is nae the kind of burden that I can carry for ye…”
“I ken,” Myra shook him off. He was being like that to amuse her and keep her spirits high. Myra was appreciative of his efforts, even if she was still anxious about the process of giving birth. “Thank ye, but I’m doing all right.”
“I dinnae ken if I believe ye,” Thomas said while raising an eyebrow.
“I would nae be fine if I had to lie in bed all day,” she admitted while smiling at him. “I would be bored, and I’m already bored as it is.”
“The child will be here soon,” Thomas said to reassure her. Myra could feel her heart fluttering at the thought of it. She was still finding it difficult to comprehend that they would soon have a child of their own, a family of their own, and a hybrid of the two clans who had historically been engaged in conflict with one another.
“I got ye something,” Thomas said, bringing her attention back to him.
“What is it?” she asked with a frown. “Ye did nae have to give me anything; ye have already given me this,” she said with a slight laugh as she gestured to the swollen bump of her stomach.
“Aye, but I wanted ye to have something. If we have a daughter, then the necklace will be going to her. I wanted ye to have this to wear, a jewel to give yer own story to.”
Myra watched in the mirror with wide eyes as Thomas placed a jewel around her neck. The dainty chain reminded her so much of the one that she had worn for years. Tears started to rise in her eyes as she stared at the jewel. It was a slightly different green to her other one, and the silver chain had been replaced by a gold one.
“Thomas,” she breathed out as she stared at it, stepping slightly closer to the mirror to get a better view of it. “That’s incredible.”
“Do ye really like it?” he asked.
Myra could see from his reflection that he was bracing himself for the rejection. But she couldn’t fault the gesture, and she couldn’t remember anyone else doing such a thing for her before. “I love it.”
“I’m glad,” Thomas said as he breathed out in relief. “The stone is slightly different. I didnae want to get the stone as the other because…well it just didn’t feel right, and the chain is-”
“I love it,” Myra said again as she turned around and beamed up at him.
Thomas’s expression finally broke out into a smile as he stared down at her. She could tell that this was something that had conflicted him for a while. It was a lovely gift, but she could see why he didn’t want to risk it.
“I thought that it would be good for ye to have yer story to tell about this necklace and yers alone, a new heirloom that has nae been tainted by anything bad,” Thomas said while shrugging slightly.
Myra liked that idea a lot. She would be able to tell her children and their children of how she had been given the gift by her loving husband to match their unborn daughter’s.
“I love ye so much; I dinnae think ye will ever comprehend that,” she admitted while laughing slightly. Thomas was always much better at articulating his love. Myra admired him for that, but she was never too good at doing the same.
“I ken,” he smiled. “I love ye more. I love both of ye,” he said as she felt his hand against her stomach.
As if to answer, she could sense the baby kicking from within her. The two of them smiled as Thomas felt the sensation too, his hand rubbing reassuring circles across her belly. Myra felt her own stomach flutter, without any prompting from the baby, as she thought about the family that they were going to have together.
“My brother will be here any day,” she said with a sigh. “I just hope that the baby can stay in long enough for him to make it.”
“All will be fine,” Thomas waved off her concerns. “I’ve already told ye that I have organized everything so that ye will nae have anything to worry about. If the baby starts to come early, I will have some of my men ride out to meet Leo on the road and urge him to delay no more.”
Myra could feel the baby kicking more frequently. She was big enough, and she knew that it really wouldn’t be too long before they were welcoming their first child into the world.
“We will have lots of children together, Myra, lots of siblings that will have one another long after we are gone.”
Myra smiled as she thought about a MacKay dynasty, their family extending out and becoming much larger than either of them could ever have imagined. Her child kicked as though in support of the idea, prompting Myra to hold one hand to her bump and the other to her necklace.
The jewel was already warm against her skin, and the initial cold of the metal chain was gone, heated from her own body. She turned around to stare at herself and Thomas behind her in the mirror. The jewel was slightly larger than her other necklace. It glinted in the light with a lot more intensity, but Myra liked it. She felt as though the better jewel had risen from the ashes of the old one, the one that she couldn’t help but feel ashamed of. However, she was going to shape her future away from her parent’s image.
Myra wanted them to be known as a gentle family, not the kind that were unfair and intimidating. They would rule over Thomas’s clan with the support of the people, and together they would live long lives with their children in the castle.
“To our next adventure,” Thomas said, while nodding to her in the mirror. He had placed both of his hands on either side of her stomach, feeling the aby turning around.
The sun began to sink behind the treeline as the night sky settled across the landscape. The stars overhead were bright and beautiful; the only thing piercing the peacefulness that MacThomas Castle had become accustomed to was the high, jubilant laughter of a child.
“Sarah, wait!” Isla called behind the girl. “Wee lass, where d’ye think ye are goin’?”
The child shrieked happily as she bumbled across the stone walk. Isla rushed after the little girl, laughing as she swooped down to scoop her up in her arms.
She turned to see Iain standing behind her, watching them from the courtyard door to the main hall. Their son, the youngest child, was clutching his father’s leg and standing unsteadily, Iain’s hand at his back.
“I dinnae how ye are so fast with such tiny feet!” Isla cried, tickling the child. “Ye mus’ have inherited yer father’s strength an’ speed. Goodness, child, an’ how heavy ye’ve gotten for only yer fourth year!”
Iain swung the boy up, placing him on his broad shoulders as the boy giggled, delighted.
“I think it may be time fer the two of ye tae go tae sleep,” Iain said fondly. “Ye and William are much too energetic fer how late ’tis starting tae get.”
Isla smiled as she watched her husband with their two children; he was a better father than even she could have imagined and was just as good of an uncle. When Annabella married Ewan, one of Iain’s cousins, Isla had not thought she could be happier, but when Annabella’s baby, Logan, was born, Isla felt her life was nearly complete.
But her second sister had not been quite so lucky.
“Have ye seen Elayne?” Isla asked. “I feel as though I havenae seen her fer days. I’m beginnin’ tae feel worried abou’ her, Iain… It’s been almost six months since that terrible day.”
“She is still mournin’ Kenneth,” Iain said. “As am I, I suppose. I was certain tha’ they would marry, poor lass. I saw her makin’ her way back tae her chambers; her eyes were rimmed with red from too much weepin’.”
“I thought she would die o’ heartbreak when he didnae come home from tha’ hunt,” Isla said, setting the little child down. The little girl threw her arms around her father’s leg, grinning up at him. “Can ye watch Sarah for a moment? ‘Twould make me feel much better tae check on Elayne.”
Iain nodded as he moved the boy from his shoulders to his arms. He ushered Sarah inside, holding the wooden door open for them as Isla moved towards the staircase on the left that led to her sister’s room. It was not far down the hall; in fact, if she turned to her right, she could still see her husband and children making their way to her bedchambers.
Isla leaned closer to the door, hearing a faint sobbing from inside; her sister was crying. She knocked upon it lightly and the weeping stopped, Elayne’s voice coming through the crack in the door.
“Jus’ a moment!”
Elaye’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying, just as Iain had said, and her hair was disheveled, as though she were laying in bed.
“Oh,” she said. “Good evenin’, Isla. I’m sorry I missed supper, but I wasnae feelin’ hungry tonight.”
“Aye, I understand,” Isla said. “But truly, ye should eat somethin’, Elayne. I’m sure it would be no trouble fer me tae bring ye somethin’ tae yer chambers if ye—”
Isla looked at her sister and reached out to brush one lock of red hair that had fallen in front of her face. Elayne smiled at her weakly but there was no joy in it.
“Elayne, dinnae ye think think tha’ ye have put yerself through enough?” Isla asked gently. “I… I loved Kenneth as well, but—”
“Not as I did,” Elayne said, her voice quiet and tragically heartbreaking. “I’m sorry, sister. I was just… I was thinkin’ o’ him lately, tha’ is all. I know tha’ everyone else misses him as well, especially Iain. They were close as children, as I understan’.”
“As many cousins are,” Isla replied. “Come, Annabella wondered if ye wanted tae sew together after dinner. Ewan has a few shirts tha’ need mendin’ an’ I said I would ask ye; she has so much on her plate wi’ Logan now. A new baby really is quite a lot o’ work!”
Elayne sighed heavily, the breath exiting her lungs in a morose puff of air.
“I think I would rather be alone fer the rest o’ the evenin’, sister,” Elayne said. “I’m sorry, but… I am jus’ no’ feelin’ up tae company right now. Per’aps tomorrow I will be able tae be more help.”
Isla wanted to ask Elayne if she was sure, but she did not want to press her sister. After Kenneth’s disappearance six months ago, Elayne had fallen into a deep depression and had seemed now as though she were a ghost of her former self. Isla had not heard her sister laugh since the day that Kenneth went missing.
“Alrigh’,” Isla said. “If ye need anythin’, please dinnae hesitate tae find me. Promise?”
“O’ course,” Elayne said. “Dinnae worry about me, Isla, truly. Ye have enough on yer plate with the children.”
Isla left Elayne with a heavy heart, making her way back to her own bedchamber where Iain would surely be waiting for her. The two children were already asleep, curled up next to their father, who was breathing soft and slow in the night.
I dinnae want tae wake him. He helps so much with the children.
It was true; Iain was an excellent father. She could have asked for no better husband to share her life with.
Carefully, she undressed and pulled on her cotton nightdress and smoothed her hair down. It was perhaps a bit too early to sleep, but the children were in the innocent stages of roaming everywhere as quickly as they could and she had been completely worn out today. It seemed that Iain, too, felt the same way.
She laid in bed, taking great care to wake her husband or children, and sighed as she pulled the quilts around her. It did not take her long to fall sound asleep; she almost always fell right asleep with her husband beside her, so comforted was she by his presence.
Isla was not sure how long she remained asleep for though, however. She thought it had been only mere moments, but the moon had travelled across the sky, leaving the room in a heavy darkness; she must have been asleep longer than she thought. A thudding sound had stirred her awake and she sat up in bed. Immediately, she looked over at Iain, but it seemed that he heard nothing at all.
Had tha’ been a dream? Or did I really hear it?
Confused, she stepped down, her feet touching the cold stone floor.
Isla crept through bed chamber door, certain that she heard another noise, like a door shutting heavily and then someone gasping as the sound echoed through the halls. She paused, debating on whether to wake Iain, but this was surely something that she could take care of herself without waking him. He had so much responsibility already with the Lairdship resting on his shoulders; surely she could satisfy her own curiosity herself.
She heard footsteps down the hall, but clouds blocked the moon’s glow, enshrouding the mysterious person in darkness.
She rounded the corner, hurrying so as not to miss whoever it was creeping around the castle in the middle of the night. Isla held her breath as she rushed after them, her mind whirling as questions blossomed in her mind. Footsteps padded across the stone floor, but they proved to be too fast for her; her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness.
Isla heard the main door open on the floor below her and paused at the window. If she could not catch them, then peering through the window would be the next best thing. She had a good view of the walk in the courtyard there and as long as the person did not hug the wall of the castle, she would be able to see who it was easily. The moonlight may not be bright tonight, but they still had torches lit in the courtyard all through the night.
A figure crossed the courtyard quietly. When they turned to look back at the castle to peer into the darkness, Isla felt her heart drop to the stone floor.
It was Elayne, with a rucksack thrown over her shoulder. She clutched her cloak close to her and made her way across the courtyard towards the stables before Isla could stop her.
Ellie stretched her arms high above her head and let out a slow breath. “Och, when will my body be me own again,” she said, rolling onto her side.
“In about three short months if what I overhear from the kitchen maids is to be believed,” Aidam replies, dropping a light kiss on her rounded belly. “Oh, and if the wee bairn was conceived during a waning moon, he’ll be sure to be a lad.” Ellie playfully slaps him away.
“Aidam Sinclair, what have I told ye about luring the kitchen maids into gossip. Ye encourage them in their stories.”
“Och, my love, ye need not be jealous. As buxom as the old ladies are, I only have eyes for one lass.” He quickly removed his trews and climbed into bed with her, cradling her in his arms.
“Jealous, are ye daft?” She laughed along with her husband’s teasing. He loved sneaking into the kitchen after a meal for a sweet treat, and the Cook, along with her maids, were all old enough to be Aidam’s mother. They loved to dote on him, as the laird of their keep. He loved to listen to their stories. He never tired of the cackling of the old hens, as Ellie liked to say.
She rolled over and looked up at her husband. She would never tire of ending her days like this in his arms.
“How are you feeling, my love?” he asked as he stroked her growing belly.
“Tired mostly, Lyssa was a rambunctious one today. She had no desire to be inside. We spent most of the day down in the meadows identifying flowers.”
“She’s a lot like her mother, our little lass,” he replied. “I seem to remember another little minx who preferred to spend her days out of doors.” He playfully bopped Ellie on the nose. It was true, their daughter, Alyssa, Lyssa for short, named for Aidam’s mother, was more like Ellie than she ever imagined possible.
“Aye, she says she wants to pick all the flowers for the feast herself, and she will not be persuaded otherwise. She also is insistent that the babe growin in my belly is her brother, and she wants to name him William.” The little girl was nearing her third birthday, and Ellie liked to think the bairn was the best thing she and Aidam could have ever created.
“Ha! She may be right, ye ken. They say the wee bairns can see things we grown folk cannae. Perhaps our little Lyssa is a seer.”
“Nay, I think she is more like a dreamer or a warrior. But the bairn kens her own mind, of that I’m certain,” Ellie said, smiling at the memory of Lyssa’s insistence. She was a fierce and willful lass, but Ellie would have it no other way. She would never strive to raise a weak daughter. She wanted Lyssa to have choices. Choices that every lass should have from birth but took Ellie a long time to realize she could make for herself. She wanted Lyssa never to question her place in the world.
“So, she’s exactly like her mam,” Aidam laughed, kissing Ellie before she could object. “And how are the preparations going?”
“Ye would ken if ye didnae spend the whole of yer days in the village,” she replied.
“Och, woman, ye ken I’m helping the men with the harvest. We cannae run out of food for the winter.”
“Nay, of course, I just miss ye is all, husband.” She leaned up and returned his kiss. “The feast is going well, and I cannae wait to see Jemina and Evander. It has been too long.”
“It has. I hope yer brother is giving me uncle a run for his luck.”
“According to Jemina’s last letter, they’re getting along really well. Van is learning a lot. I cannae believe how quickly he is growing into his own man. He’ll make a fine Laird one day.”
“Aye, I never doubted it, and what of Jemina, has my cousin decided on a husband yet?”
Ellie laughed. Jemina was a whirlwind of beauty, grace, and stubbornness. She thought of that first crush the girl had those years ago. “She refused Colin MacGuire ye ken.”
“No, did he finally propose? I didn’t think the lad had it in him.”
“Aye, and Jemina told him no. She said he took too long, and if he truly wanted to marry her, he should have asked her years ago. I think she has eyes on another. On one in the clan.”
“Who?” Aidam asked. Ellie laughed again. Her husband was mischievous and loved his gossip. “Ellie, ye cannae say something like that and not tell me. Ye ken I need to ken.”
“Aye, but ‘tis not my tale to tell. Besides, I don’t think ye’ll like it if I tell ye,” she teased.
“Och, now ye need to tell me, lass.”
“I think she has a soft spot for Duncan MacDougall.”
“Duncan MacDougall!?” Aidam sat up in the bed and looked at Ellie as if he were going to get a horse and ride out to save his cousin from a beast. “The man who ties young lasses to trees?”
“The one and the same. But I think he has only tied me to a tree.”
“Och, ye are the only young lass I care about,” Aidam replied, his scowl creating a crease on his brow. “Why would ye ever think that? Surely, Jemina is smarter than all that?”
“Perhaps, but there is something in her letters, she mentions him more often than she should, and she seems to have true disdain for the man.”
“So why in Heaven’s name would ye think she’s soft on the man?”
“Because, Aidam, I am a woman,” Ellie said, pulling him down to lay next to her again. “And I ken what it’s like to love a man so much ye almost hate him.”
“Ahh, I see,” Aidam replied, kissing her gently. “Well, if Duncan is what me cousin wants, so help me, allow her to have him.”
“There’s my romantic husband.”
“Aye, romantic indeed,” he said. “And word of yer mam?”
“She and Sinclair are happy. I supposed that’s all that matters.” Ellie moved onto her back and ran her hand along the line of her extended stomach.
“Love, I thought you’ve forgiven yer mother.”
“I have. Sometimes I get melancholy, is all,” she said. “I miss my Da. It’s hard to believe he’s been gone so long. I ken it wasn’t her fault. He had his own demons. But sometimes thinking about it makes me sad is all.” A slight flutter of her quickening babe reminding her that there was more to the world than holding on to things long left better forgotten. “I ken it wasn’t her fault, what happened to me Da. She was hurting as much as me. I just wish things could be different, is all.”
“Aye,” Aidam said, moving to place her hands in his own. “But, lass, we must trust that all things happen for a reason. And yer Da is smiling down on ye now, to look at the woman ye’ve become, the mother ye’ve become, and the wife that ye’ve become. I wish he were here with us too, but I would not trade our lives for any such magic in the world.”
Ellie smiled. She knew he was right. Their lives were magical as they were, and every bad thing that had happened to lead them to this point was made more bittersweet as they enjoyed their happiness now.
“I love ye, Adam Sinclair, always and forever.”
“I love ye right back, Ellie Sinclair, always and forever.”
The seasons turned as the MacBride clan rebuilt their lives and strengthened their relationships with their allies.
News of the defeat of the Englishmen spread far and wide throughout Scotland, leading many more Lairds to lay fealty at the feet of Kieran’s clan and his allies. The Scottish stood in a position of strength and power that they had not known for generations. They were, at last, a formidable force to be reckoned with again.
The English in the areas closest to the clans who had allied themselves with Kieran began to remove their forces from the Highlands as quickly as they could. They, too, could not deny the strength of the Scots while they remained allied as one. It was only through their unification that the Highlanders could truly maintain peace and control of their lands – it was the best way that they could protect themselves from the ever-present threat of the English forces.
Kieran and Vivien spent their nights together, as husband and wife, continuously working together to ensure that the peace they had fought so hard to gain would remain in force long after they were gone.
While the pain of Bailey’s absence never quite abated, the MacBrides learned to live without him. Tilly never forgot him; she never let him go. If Kieran had asked her, she would have admitted that she still held out hope that he was alive and well, somewhere. Even if he did not remember her or know who the MacBrides were, that secret hope in her heart was what Tilly needed to keep moving through each day.
Kieran knew that Tilly had never seen Bailey the same way – she had never seemed to show anything stronger than friendship towards him. Kieran knew that Tilly would never admit that Bailey had been in love with her; the pain of that admission would be too much for her to bear. But Tilly was strong, and Kieran knew that she would grieve and move forward in her own way, at her own pace.
For his part, Kieran had never been happier than he had from the day that he could finally claim Vivien as his own, as his wife.
Their relationship continued to flourish as they stood side by side as equals. Kieran would never allow himself to dim her light that shone so powerfully once she came into herself again.
Vivien had proven to be an exceptionally strong woman; she was independent, fierce, kind, and compassionate. She was wise in her own way, he had found. She had a keen mind and a soft heart. She was finally truly accepted by his clansmen after their alliance had been formed with the other Lairds.
It was a year to the day after they had met on that fateful day in the forest that Kieran had decided to throw a feast. It was a celebration in many ways, and in some, a way of honoring those they had lost in that same forest as well as the life of his dearest friend.
The feast was a roaring success, as whisky flowed freely and the clansmen within the main hall tumbled about in laughter, jokes thrown around the room, the food streaming out of the kitchen – a sign of the prosperity the MacBride clan had come into after all of their trials and tribulations.
Kieran stood on the dais, watching his clan enjoying their evening, watching them laugh and cajole with each other. His sister, Tilly, sat among her own friends, and even though Kieran knew that she knew what the deeper meaning was behind the evening, she was still doing her best to enjoy herself. Kieran could see the grief in her eyes that she had learned to mask so well; there would never be true peace for her while she waited for Bailey to return to them, but she was alive, and that was something that Kieran was immensely grateful for.
He watched as a messenger approached Tilly, handing her a scrap of paper with a message written on it.
Her face changed from her forced joy to one of utter shock and disbelief as her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes began to widen. She read and reread the note in her hand multiple times, turning her head around several times in search of the messenger who had delivered the note.
She paled visibly, tilting slightly to the side as though she were about to collapse.
“I’ll be right back,” Kieran murmured in Vivien’s ear before he ran to his sister, placing his hand under her elbow just as her knees began to buckle under her. He helped her sit down gently and waited while she collected her breath.
Tilly’s hands were shaking as she tried to drink from her goblet, her face still ash white.
“What is it?” Kieran asked, kneeling before her, taking her hands in his, “Tilly? I need tae ken what has happened, ye look like ye have seen a ghost.”
She inhaled a deep, shuddering breath before looking him in the eye.
“It’s Bailey,” she whispered.
“What abou’ him?” Kieran frowned, unsure of what his sister could possibly mean.
“I just got a note from a messenger – I dinnae ken who he is. But… read it, Kieran,” she sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve as she passed the note to him.
Kieran stared down at the paper in his hand, feeling his jaw drop and the color drain from his own face.
“It cannae be,” he said, his own hands trembling as he reread the note.
“It has tae be,” Tilly insisted vehemently.
“It says he is alive, Tilly,” Kieran shook his head, even though he wanted nothing more than to believe the note, “I have his kilt – it was brought tae me as a sign o’ his death. Surely…”
“Dae ye really trust anything that Stone ever said tae ye?” Tilly asked, her voice shaking with suppressed emotion, “Dae ye not think that he might have lied? That maybe Bailey really is alive?”
“I dinnae ken, Tilly. Yer right, I dinnae trust a word that man spoke. But this, this is something else. If he is alive, dear God, ye need tae find him, Tilly.”
Tilly smiled, the first real smile Kieran had seen in months.
“Ye ken, I will. I willnae stop until I find him, Kieran. He is alive; I can feel it in my bones. Bailey is alive.”
Kieran nodded, hugged his sister close to him, and took his leave, returning to the dais where Vivien was standing. He told her what had happened, watching her face light up with joy at the prospect of Bailey still being alive.
“That is amazing news, Kieran,” she whispered, knowing without him saying anything that it was best to keep the news quiet until they could confirm it.
“Aye, it is,” he murmured, as he stood there on the dais beside his wife. Vivien looked resplendent in her own arasaid, her smile genuine, warm and happy as she looked at Tilly. Kieran turned to her, kissing her lightly on the cheek as he placed his hand on the swell of her belly. Their child kicked beneath his hand, as though it knew that it was him and knew that it was loved and treasured already.
“Bea,” Erskine adopted a warning tone, but still, the bairn looked back at him with defiance in her blue eyes. So like Laura in many ways, now the baby was growing a little, could sit straight and move about with more ease, she was already showing her knack for mischief. “Bea…daenae do that,” Erskine warned again as he walked toward her across the room, but Bea smiled, her chubby face lighting up, clearly knowing she was doing something wrong from his tone but reveling in it anyway. “Bea.”
She dropped the ham that had been clutched in her fingers onto the floor.
“Ha, what am I goin’ to do with ye, eh little one?” Erskine laughed as he dropped down at his bairn’s side on the rug. She was sat in the drawing-room of the castle, eating some ham they had given to her, yet she seemed to prefer the idea of making more of a mess than eating it. He bundled up the ham pieces she had deposited and placed them on a table nearby before sitting back down beside her. “If ye are already mischievous, what are ye goin’ to be like when ye are a little older, eh?”
He reached for his child and began to tickle her under her arms. She giggled, utterly delighted, her puffed-up cheeks turning pink as he swept her into his arms and held her in his lap, embracing her close.
Since Bea had been born, Erskine had found himself changing. Whereas before, the most important things in his life were Laura, his father, and his clan, now Bea was at the top of the list with them, and repeatedly he found himself making excuses to be with her. Not that he minded. He kissed her on the top of her head as she settled down from her laughter.
Not yet ready to stand, Bea was proving a handful already, and he loved that about her.
“Ye’re takin’ after yer maither already, arenae ye?” he murmured to her.
If yer maither is bold enough to dress up as a boy and travel from England to Scotland, I wonder what mischief ye will get up to when ye’re older? I’ll be gray before me time worryin’ after ye!
“Is she causing you trouble again?”
At the familiar voice, Erskine looked up to see Laura standing in the doorway. Erskine smiled as soon as his eyes found her. In the last two years, she had blossomed even more than when he had first met her. Now, she was leaning on the doorframe, wearing a pale cream dress cinched at the waist with long sleeves and a deep square neckline. Her hair was much longer these days, and today she wore it free about her shoulders.
“Nae as much as ye do,” Erskine teased just as Laura stepped away from the door and walked toward him across the room.
Erskine felt the love he had known now for the last two years swell as she came closer. It was always the same. Whenever she was near, he was desperate to have her in his arms. As she reached him, she plopped down on her knees and spoke animatedly to their daughter.
“Don’t you listen to him, Bea. Always be as mischievous as you like, and we will love you all the same.”
“Ye ken I will,” Erskine laughed, “it’s just takin’ after ye so much, I am just picturin’ the trouble she’ll get into when she’s older.”
“What kind of trouble?” Laura looked up to him with innocence.
“Have ye forgotten me chasin’ after ye across the south road tryin’ to get ye out of Lord Moore’s hands?”
“Ah, well, we will never promise Bea’s hand to such a man.”
“True, I wouldnae do that. But how about sneakin’ into me entourage dressed as a boy?” Erskine tickled Bea again, making her squirm and laugh on his lap.
“Give Bea enough freedom, and she won’t feel the need to run as I did,” Laura held his gaze with honesty in her blue eyes.
“I ken, love,” he smiled and lifted a hand to her. He gently took her chin and brought her toward him. She leaned toward him until their lips met in a gentle kiss. “I give ye me word,” he said as she sat back again, her smile so great that her cheeks had to ache, “Bea will have all the freedom she wants.”
“Thank you,” she said, just as Bea let out a little wail. “Oh, dear! Is someone gettin’ upset they daenae have enough attention?” she laughed and took Bea out of his arms, holding the child above her head and pulling faces at her until the bairn laughed again.
Seeing his wife and his daughter together, Erskine felt everything was complete.
Life is as it should be.
“How were Tam and Lennox?” he asked, pleased to see Laura had returned from her visit to them.
“Well, they have some news,” she smiled as she settled Bea in her arms. Suddenly sleepy, Bea rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, the smattering of dark auburn hair that was across her forehead flattened with the actions.
“Is it good news or bad news?” Erskine asked carefully.
“Oh, good news,” Laura gestured to Bea in her hold. “This kind of news.”
“What…” Erskine hesitated. “Lennox is with child?”
“Yes,” Laura nodded, “but it’s a great secret for now apparently, so you must tell no one.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” Erskine nodded. He had seen often enough how Lennox looked at Bea and longed for her own child. As godmother, Lennox was always around to take care of Bea, but she was missing that love from her own life too. Tam would no doubt be delighted by the news too. Erskine could remember a particular conversation he and Tam had shared shortly after Bea was born, where Tam had talked of his wish to see Lennox with her own child in her arms.
A knock at the door disturbed Erskine’s peace, and he looked up to see Camden standing in the doorway. Camden was wearing a dark expression, though it cracked into a small smile when he laid eyes on Laura and Bea together.
“Camden,” Erskine called to him, “have ye come bearin’ news too?”
“That I have,” Camden nodded, his somber expression returning as he shifted between his feet.
“I am guessin’ it is bad news from the way ye are actin’….” Erskine gestured to him.
“It is nae good news,” Camden accepted quietly.
“Very well,” Erskine moved to his feet and kissed Laura on the forehead as he walked past her. In her arms, Bea’s eyes were now closed, and she was quickly on the way to the peaceful depths of sleep. As Erskine moved to Camden in the doorway, he was struggling to tear his eyes off the two women in his life he adored so much. Seeing Bea so peaceful in Laura’s hold reminded him of the night before and how he and Laura had slept in one another’s arms too.
It is the greatest peace I have ever ken.
Well, it had been peaceful until Erskine woke that morning and found Laura trying to get out of the bed, dressed only in a thin shift. It was a revealing dress indeed, showing off the slender curves of her body and the delicate curve of her neck as she let the tendrils of her hair fall over her shoulder.
Unable to stay still, he had drawn Laura back to the bed. Within minutes, their peace was lost to heat. He had made love to her with all the passion he had in him, first entering her from behind as she leaned forward on the bed, screwing up her hands in the pillows and muffling her moans of pleasure. Next, he had flipped the two of them over. With him sat up, she was straddling him, clutching to his shoulders as she rocked back and forth and sent him into the oblivion of passion.
“Erskine?” Camden’s voice brought him back to the moment.
He snapped his eyes away from the perfect image of Laura and Bea together toward Camden as he reached him in the doorway.
“If ye have come to disturb me happiness,” Erskine dropped his voice to a whisper, loathe to let Laura hear whatever bad news Camden had come to tell him, “ye can go away again just as quickly.”
“If only I could,” Camden sighed with a shake of his head. “Ye will want to ken this.”
“Oh? What?”
“Yer faither has received a letter this mornin’. It’s from Dearg,” Camden stressed the word as he handed over a piece of parchment.
Erskine said nothing at first, but he took the letter and read it quickly. Reading those words only left Erskine unsettled. Dearg had always possessed a talent for charm, and Erskine had only learned two years ago what could really lurk beneath that pretend charm he wore. The letter was full of so many apologies that Erskine found it difficult to believe it. He couldn’t help suspecting that Dearg’s apology was a lie in order to get what he wanted: to come home.
“What did me faither say about it? Does he believe it, or does he think he is lyin’?” Erskine kept his voice a whisper as he looked back over to Laura and Bea.
I willnae let me brother anywhere near them—Nae after what he tried to do to Laura.
“He’s nae sure. I think he wants to believe it,” Camden shrugged. “He mentions a meetin’ point.”
“Aye, so I see,” Erskine murmured as he folded the parchment back up. “I’m guessin’ me faither has already said he is happy to go ahead with the meetin’?”
“Aye,” Camden nodded, his expression holding the same reservations that Erskine felt. It had not missed Erskine’s notice recently that when he and his father spoke of Dearg, the Laird looked forward to having Dearg home again. He clearly hoped Dearg would be a transformed man, but for Erskine, the letter was clearly full of falseness.
I trust him now nay more than I did the day he left the clan.
“Camden, ye and Aiden go and meet him,” Erskine said quickly. “I think it’s best.”
“Nae fond of the idea?” Erskine smirked. “I thought ye dinnae shy away from any challenge.”
“It is nae that, it is just….” Camden’s eyes flicked toward Laura and Bea. “Perhaps I am ready for a different kind of challenge in me life.”
“Ah, I see,” Erskine smiled at the thought and leaned on the wall beside Camden. “Ye want to relax yer duties a little in order to find a wife of yer own?”
“Is that so bad?” Camden asked.
“I thought ye preferred a life of many women?”
“Nae anymore,” Camden shook his head. “I’m ready for a new life.”
“Then I hope the right woman comes along soon,” Erskine smiled and patted Camden’s shoulder in comfort. “Then I give ye me word, Camden. Go to this meetin’ place with Dearg, see what he offers as clemency to come back to the clan. After that, I promise ye can take a break from duties for a little while.”
“Thank ye, Erskine, I appreciate it,” Camden offered his hand, and Erskine shook it. Before releasing, though, Erskine held his grasp a little longer.
“Be careful, Camden. Me faither may be willin’ to forgive Dearg and believe he is a changed man, but I am nae so ready to believe it,” Erskine flicked his gaze back to Laura and Bea.
“Ye daenae think he would try to harm ye again? By doin’ somethin’ to them?” Camden asked, a note of panic in his voice.
“Let us hope nae. But keep yer eyes open me friend. Both for bein’ wary for Dearg and for any woman who may be yer future wife,” Erskine’s gentle jest brought a smile from Camden.
“I will. Good day, Erskine,” Camden nodded his head and left quickly out of the room.
Erskine looked back to Laura and Bea. With the bairn now sleeping peacefully, Laura was back on her feet, her beautiful smile faltering slightly as she walked toward him.
“Is something wrong, Erskine?” she asked, whispering so not to wake Bea.
“I daenae ken, Laura. I really daenae ken.”
He had to hope his gut instinct was wrong, but he really couldn’t be sure. He just passed Dearg’s letter to Laura. She adjusted her hold to grasp Bea with just one arm and opened the letter with her other hand. As she read the words, her bright blue eyes widened even more.
“He wants to come back.”
“So he does,” Erskine shifted between his feet. “There’s more to this than he portends. I’m sure of it.”
“What are ye workin’ on, Bram?” Kyla asked. She was cradling their youngest child in her arms in the library, and Bram was sitting at a nearby table, writing furiously.
“Och, I was writin’ a letter. It seems that we are soon tae be enterin’ a truce with England, but I doubt that will last for long. Nae with Wallace and Bruce at the helm of this country.”
Kyla could see that Bram’s expression was grim. It had been difficult over the last five years with the constant uprisings and battles that had followed the Battle of Dunbar. It seemed that there was no end to England’s desire for conquest of the wild Scottish Highlands. Her husband had grown more fatigued because of it. However, he had been no less loving. The comfort of his family had helped to soothe him.
“Father,” their oldest child, Robert, said, coming to slide into Bram’s lap. “Will ye teach me how tae write letters one day?”
Bram’s smile returned, and he laid a kiss atop his son’s head. “Aye, lad, of course, but I think ye will find that it is yer Mother who is the better teacher. Has she nae already outsmarted most of yer tutors?” Bram looked at Kyla and winked.
She rolled her eyes. “They were simply uninformed about the outside world. It is as if they have hardly read a word! I couldnae have Robert learnin’ from them. Nor would I ever plague Ruth with them either,” she said, glancing down at her baby. She stood up and wandered around to Bram’s side of the desk.
“Will ye come walk, m’love? It is a beautiful sunny day, and the English can wait. I think it time that we all get a bit of fresh air.”
“Quite right, quite right,” Bram replied, nodding his head as he stood up. “Thank ye, lass.”
Soon, the children were sent away with a very pregnant Mary; Bram and Kyla left the castle, hand in hand. “Tae the loch?” he asked, and she beamed, nodding her head.
“Of course. Where else?”
They spoke idly together as they wandered up the grassy hillside until they found the small valley between two hills in which the loch lay. The air was clean and fresh, and the loch sparkled like crystal under the sunlight.
“Do ye ever think of Clyde, Bram?”
Bram looked down. “I thought this was meant tae be a happy walk, Kyla.”
“I ken. I was only curious. This loch reminded me of him. It does sometimes and how Michael caught us here kissin’ one day.”
He grinned. “Aye, now that is a happy memory. I do think of Clyde, sometimes. I wonder how he fares in prison. I wonder if he ever thinks of me or his family. I wonder if he cares that he cannae be an uncle tae our children. But these thoughts bring me nae joy. They merely remind me of the ache in m’ heart for m’ old brither.”
Kyla held onto his hand tightly. “I ken. I cannae imagine what I would do if I lost Arla in such a way. I understand yer pain. I am sorry tae have brought it up.”
Bram took a breath and slid his arm around Kyla’s waist, looking out at the loch. “Nae, lass. It is a good thing tae discuss it. I wanted him gone but nae dead. He still lives; I can feel it in m’ heart. That does give me some comfort that I feel I did what was right. Besides, here, in this magical place, with ye at m’ side, I cannae imagine feelin’ any sort of sadness or pain.”
He turned to her with a wicked gleam in his eye and leaned down to kiss her. It had been five years since their marriage, and yet their desire for one another never quelled. Even more so, Kyla felt like butter in Bram’s strong arms. With a passionate kiss, Bram could make all her limbs weaken and her brain hazy that she thought of nothing else.
But this time, out in the sunshine by the blue water, this was more than a kiss. It had started out gently, but then it grew in heat as Bram’s mouth opened to hers and his tongue slid inside. At first, his hands had gripped her waist, but now they had moved behind her, grasping her buttocks. He pushed her against his hardening length, and in a moment, Kyla’s desire pooled hotly in her belly.
Now that they were married, there was no reason for them to hide their love or have to hurry away to secret alcoves to get a stolen kiss or tryst, but the idea of it was exciting. Kyla didn’t fight it as Bram began to pull at her gown and the pins in her hair. Her hair tumbled down her back and began to blow in the slight breeze.
She pulled at his shirt and worked at the ties on his breeches. Soon enough, the pair of them were bare and exposed. She thought nothing of it as Bram lowered her down to the ground. They hadn’t even spoken, so entranced they were by one another’s kiss. But once he was on top of her, his mouth roamed. Down her neck, over her shoulder. One hand grasped a large breast, and his mouth moved to the other, licking, suckling until Kyla felt ready to scream with the pleasure of it.
“I have never tired of these beauties, Kyla. Ye seem tae have grown even bonnier since we first met.”
He leaned up so that she could see him wink. She chuckled as she spread her legs and wrapped them around him. His brows lifted in surprise. “I see ye are eager.” His gaze darkened. “Good.”
“I am always eager for ye, Bram.” He entered her roughly, and even though it had happened so often, Kyla still gasped at the thrilling pleasure of it. Bram filling her until she couldn’t be filled anymore was true bliss. She lifted her hips slightly so that she could take him deeper.
Bram locked eyes with her, and he began to move, slowly, teasingly, but she wrapped her legs tighter so that he could enter her even more. She could see the muscles tighten in his neck as he felt his pleasure. She grabbed onto the backs of his arms as he rode her faster and faster, thrusting deeply until her nails bit into his skin and her voice lifted up to the sky.
He kept going, sweat forming on his brow, but soon enough, Bram growled out her own name, and then the two of them were lying entwined together in the cool, green grass. Their chests rose and fell, and Bram wrapped his arms about Kyla as they caught their breath.
Eventually, Bram grinned. “Ye surprise me every time, Lady Ewan, with just how enticin’ and bold ye can be.”
Kyla laughed and spread her hand on Bram’s strong chest. “Ye have taught me well just what gives ye the most pleasure, Laird Ewan.”
Her eyes moved down his chest until they looked at his length. She bit her lip. Bram followed her gaze and said, “As much as I would love nothin’ more than tae have yer lips wrapped around me tightly, I think I will have tae rest afore I can come tae life again.”
“Fair enough,” she said brightly. “We have the evenin’ tae look forward tae again.”
“That we do.” Bram stood and helped Kyla to her feet, and the two of them dressed, laughing about something that Robert had said earlier that morning.
They were just turning to leave the loch, hand in hand once more, when Liam rode up to them, a look of confused excitement on his face. “Laird and Lady,” he said with a grin. “I didnae wish tae make ye wait any longer, or rather yer guest didnae wish tae wait for yer return.”
“What is it, Liam?” Kyla asked. “Is everythin’ all right?”
“I think so, but I dinnae think that Arla does,” Liam added. “Here, ye take m’ horse. I shall walk back tae the castle. It is ye both that she wishes tae see.”
“Arla? But we were nae expectin’ her,” Kyla said with confusion. “How has she arrived?”
“Well, kennin’ the lass, I am certain that she will tell ye herself, but apparently, she escaped yer father’s castle and rode here on horseback. Alone.”
Kyla’s eyes widened, and Bram merely laughed. “Och, it seems that we are in for an adventure again, lass. Come. Let us go and see just what it is she has tae tell us.” Bram jumped onto the horse and reached down to lift Kyla tae sit in front of him.
As they rode back to the castle, Bram whispered, “Perhaps we need tae find a more secure place. Why, Liam could have arrived just as we were in the height of our pleasures.”
Kyla laughed, but her heart was still focused on what on earth Arla was doing there.
***
Arla McCormack, now a fiery twenty-two-year-old beauty, was pacing back and forth in her sister’s castle. She had just arrived and heard that they were out somewhere. Knowing them, they could be gone for hours, and Arla didn’t want to wait hours. She needed their help because she was certain that her father’s men were on her heels and could arrive any time, perhaps even that very day!
She shook her head. “I willnae marry that beast. I willnae!” She stomped back and forth in her heavy leather boots and riding trousers that she had stolen from one of the men back at her castle. Just as she was making her tenth turn about the hall, she heard a tiny voice call out to her.
“Aunt Arla?”
Arla turned to see Robert wandering down the steps, rubbing his eyes. Arla’s heart eased considerably at the sight of her sweet nephew. “Robert!” she cried and rushed to him, picking him up and laying a big kiss on his cheek. “Now, it looks like ye have just woken from a nap. What are ye doin’ out here alone? Where is Mary?”
“She is with Ruth, gettin’ her tae sleep. I didnae want tae sleep anymore. I heard the sounds down here and wanted tae see what it is. Father says I must always be ready for intruders intae the castle.”
Arla chuckled. “Ye will be a good laird one day, then, lad. I am sorry that ye thought I might be an intruder. But ye should nae wake up tae early, ye ken, for then later, ye might just be tae tired tae play games or even eat dinner.”
Robert’s eyes widened in fear at the thought of missing games and food. Arla laughed again. “What are ye doin’ here, Aunt Arla? Mother didnae say that ye were comin’. Why did she nae say?”
“Well, it is more of a surprise, Robert.” She put him down and knelt down to his height. “I wanted tae come and surprise ye,” she lied, and she tried her best to smile. “Do ye nae like surprises?”
Robert’s surprised look turned tae one of happiness. “Aye. I like surprises. Can we play that game ye taught me last time?”
“Of course, of course, but first, I need tae speak tae yer mother and father. I am waitin’ for them now.”
She stood up again, and Robert reached up to grasp her hand. Just then, Bram and Kyla entered the hall, and Kyla rushed forward to grasp Arla in a quick hug. She looked ever so slightly pale, and Arla felt a little guilty for making her sister worry. “Well, ye dinnae look sick or injured. That is a good thing.”
Bram smiled and hugged Arla as well. “Now, will ye tell us what is goin’ on? Ye are most welcome, of course, but we didnae ken that ye wished tae come. What is this emergency?”
Arla’s good mood at the sight of Robert was now spoiled. She began to pace again, and Robert returned to his mother’s side. He was grateful that they hadn’t noticed that he was without Mary in their surprise at his aunt’s arrival.
Arla threw up her hands in the air. “Well, we might as well sit.”
She sat down at one of the tables, and Bram and Kyla followed. Seeing the tense look in Arla’s eye, he called for wine to be brought.
Kyla leaned forward to try to grasp her sister’s trembling hand. “Tell us, Arla. What is it? Ye have escaped Father?’
“So, I have,” she said hotly, her eyes narrowing. She stood up again to pace. “I had tae leave, Kyla, and I came here because I thought that ye would be able tae help me.”
“We will do whatever we can, lass. Of course. Ye are family,” Bram said with confidence. The servant brought wine, and Arla waited as they poured it. She took the cup and drank a large gulp.
“I had tae leave Father because he is attemptin’ tae marry me off.”
Kyla frowned. “I kenned that this time would come. We both did. But surely ye didnae think that ye could avoid it. Is there somethin’ wrong with the man he has chosen?”
Arla almost screamed; she couldn’t believe her sister was almost defending her father’s actions. “Wrong? What is nae wrong with him? He is old, unseemly, and a menace! And I ken that the only reason Father is wantin’ us tae marry is that he owes the man a debt. I dinnae ken what kind of debt, but somethin’. Why else would he do this tae me? I could nae remain. I had tae leave, but I am certain his men will be here soon tae take me back. Will ye help me?”
Bram and Kyla looked at each other for a moment. Kyla turned to her sister and was about to reply when they were disturbed by Lucas, the second to Liam. He had entered the room, a strange look in his eye.
“Laird, it seems that the men on the battlements spotted a group of wagons comin’ this way.”
Arla’s heart was fluttering in her chest at the mention of carriages. “Ye see? He must be here already!” She turned to see the man who had been so rude to her all those years ago and Bram and Kyla’s wedding. Her mood worsened at the sight of Lucas, grinning once he spotted her.
Och, just what I needed.
Miriam had some news to tell Jamie, but she didn’t know how to do it.
She was sitting in the terraced gardens, watching as Jamie played with Caillen. The little girl squealed in delight as Jamie caught her under the arms and swung her up in the air. It was a game they loved to play; Caillen would demand to be shown what flying would be like, then she would run around the garden until her father caught her. Jamie would sometimes feign missing her before catching her for real and holding her up high in the air.
Miriam felt her smile get so wide that she was sure her cheeks would ache forevermore. Jamie turned in a circle, making Caillen laugh and giggle as she saw the world spin around them.
“Ye’ll make her sick again,” Miriam pointed out loudly as she reached for one of the drinks that had been set out for them.
“Sick? Nay,” Jamie swung Caillen up and placed her on his shoulders. “Caillen, if ye do feel sick. Do me a favor. Aim it behind me and not on me head.”
The little girl just laughed in response and buried her hands in her father’s hair, tugging at the light-brown strands. Miriam laughed too, remembering just how many times Caillen’s face had turned from delight to worry. No matter how many times she was sick, she demanded to play the game again, for she loved it so much.
“Come sit down here and have somethin’ to drink,” Miriam urged him.
He walked over hurriedly, but before he sat down, he bent and kissed her, lingering with his lips against hers.
Miriam was so lost in that kiss that the sharp tug on her hair surprised her.
“Caillen!” she called, the sound slightly muffled against Jamie’s lips.
Jamie laughed as he straightened up and reached up to Caillen on his shoulders.
“Ye playin’ with ma’s hair again?” he asked her.
“Aye,” Caillen said with a smile, clearly pleased with herself. “Da! The butterflies!” she was pointing off in the direction of the flowerbeds where two cabbage-white butterflies danced together, swirling around one another with little bobbed movements. “Make me fly again – like them.”
“Nae right now, lass,” Jamie pulled her off his shoulders and placed her back down on her feet. “Any more and ye may well be sick, and I need somethin’ to drink. Runnin’ after ye is harder work than ye think.” He tapped her softly on the back, and she ran off to the flowerbeds, pulling her little skirt up around her knees as she watched the butterflies.
“Daenae run off!” Miriam called after her.
“Aye, ma,” she clearly didn’t have much intention of doing so. She was jumping up and down, trying to catch the butterflies with her small hands. The white butterflies just hovered out of her reach.
Miriam smiled as Jamie came to take the seat beside her. Without warning, he kissed her again, passing a hand behind her head until his fingers were entwined in her black hair and pulling her toward him for the kiss. At the touch, Miriam could feel that heat that she now knew so well filling her up. When his hand slipped under the table to take hold of her hip, she squealed into his mouth and pulled away.
“Calm yerself,” she shook her head. “Or ye’ll make our daughter ask all sorts of questions she shouldnae yet ken the answers to.”
He laughed in response and sat back in his seat as she passed him a small beer.
“Forgive me. It is hard to keep me hands off ye,” he said as he sipped the drink, his eyes passing over Caillen as she danced. “She makes me happier than I thought I could be, ye ken.”
“Me too,” Miriam watched their daughter as she jumped up and down in the flowerbeds. Miriam was not afraid to say that the night of Caillen’s birth had not been an easy one. The labor had been long and what had made it doubly difficult was the fact that Jamie hadn’t been there.
As part of the retaliation with the war against the Sutherland Clan, Jamie had been off leading the soldiers. They had not expected Miriam to go into labor so early, and the moment she did, word was sent off to Jamie.
When he returned, sweaty and covered in dirt from the battle, Miriam had just given birth. She was holding Caillen in her hands with unshed tears in her eyes when he burst through the door, moving so quickly that he tripped over his own feet and completely fell over.
Miriam smiled at the memory.
Well, looks like we’ll be doin’ it all over again.
“Jamie,” she began slowly, uncertain how to tell him.
“Aye?” he turned his full attention to her.
“What do ye think of a little brother or sister for Caillen?” she gestured to their daughter. She had black hair like Miriam, but it curled around her ears, bearing resemblance to her father’s locks.
“I think let’s find someone to watch over Caillen, and we’ll go get started now,” he smiled and sat forward in his chair, prompting Miriam to laugh and reach out for his shoulders, pushing him back in his seat.
“That is nae necessary,” she said softly, waiting for him to understand. For a minute, he just frowned, not following her at all. Then, his face altered and his lips quirked into a small smile.
“Ye mean ye are…” he gestured down to her stomach.
“I am.”
“In the name of the wee man, this is fantastic news!” he leaned toward her and kissed her again, bringing her up to meet his lips.
“What did I say about Caillen, bampot?” Miriam leaned away and batted him around the arm.
“She is used to kissin’, this willnae make her ask questions,” he smiled. “So, we are to have a new member in our family.”
“We are,” Miriam circled her arms around Jamie’s neck. “And I think this time it will be a boy.”
“A boy? What makes ye so certain?”
Miriam looked down at her stomach, trying to explain it.
“A feelin’. That is all.”
“Then a boy it may well be,” he kissed her on the forehead. “Well, if we are to have as many problems namin’ this one as we had with Caillen, we best start our debate now.”
“We dinnae have that many problems,” Miriam rolled her eyes as she raised her head.
“We did,” Jamie pointed out. “For four days after her birth, we just called her lass!”
“I forgot about that,” Miriam chuckled. “Aye, very well. Any ideas of this boy’s name?”
At her words, Jamie placed a hand to her stomach and closed his eyes. For a minute, all was still as they listened to Caillen jumping in the flowerbeds.
“Feels like a Gawain to me.”
“Gawain?” she repeated as he opened his eyes. “I quite like that.”
“What? Nay debate? Nay argument?” he teased.
“Nay, I like Gawain.”
“Then, Gawain it is.” Jamie sat back in his chair and looped his arm around Miriam. She was pulled onto his chest where she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Me family,” she sighed with contentment. “Ye, me, Caillen and Gawain. How could I want for anythin’ more?”
“Daenae say that too quickly, lass. I want another after that.”
