Only a highlander will d.., p.20
Only a Highlander Will Do, page 20
Tears pressed against the backs of Fiona’s eyes. “I’m glad there was good in him at the end, and that he helped you survive. I hope those actions help him find peace in the great beyond.”
“I’m certain they will.” Rowena squeezed Fiona’s fingers before releasing her hands, then she and the others moved away, leaving Fiona and Tormod alone.
Fiona stood at the gravesite, looking down at the freshly turned earth. “It seems right to leave him here, buried next to my mother. They will be the guardians of what remains of Ulster Castle in the years ahead.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Tormod asked, placing his arm around her waist and pulling her tight against his side.
Fiona cast one last glance at the gravesite. “There’s nothing anyone can do. He’s gone. Ulster is gone.” She gazed upon Tormod fully for the first time since they’d left Monkstadt behind and noted his clothes were still spattered with blood. The bandage she’d placed around the slash in his arm remained where she’d tied it. Dark shadows hovered beneath his eyes. He looked as tired and beaten down as she felt, and yet he was there beside her, supporting her in her time of need.
His brows bent inward and he gave a small shake of his head. “I am sorry I couldn’t stop Alex from killing your father.”
She shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself. That the MacDonalds did not kill him sooner was a miracle. At least I got to see him one last time. To be with him in the end.”
Fiona saw the shine of unshed tears in his eyes a moment before Tormod pulled her into his arms. He held her there for several long moments, as though nothing else in the world mattered. The chill that had come over her while witnessing her father’s death faded, replaced by Tormod’s warmth. After a while, he stepped back and with a finger against her chin, lifted her gaze to his. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I’m already home.”
He frowned. “I know how much you loved Ulster Castle.”
“Nay, Tormod.” She smiled up at him. “What I meant to say is that wherever you are, that’s where my home is.”
His eyes brightened as acceptance dawned. He held out his hand. “Then, will you come back to Dunvegan with me?”
Fiona stared at the calluses and silver-threaded scars that marked his palm. Strong and capable fingers waited patiently for her confirmation. And just like that, the tightness in her chest eased. With a hitch in her breath, she took his hand. “Aye, I’ll go with you.”
*
The pinkish-orange fingers of dusk streaked through the late evening sky as all those who’d left in the earliest hours of morning finally reached the gates of Dunvegan. Fiona was pleased when she saw Gwendolyn standing in the courtyard with Ginny, Mrs Honey, Mrs Bagley, and the Grey Lady beside her, ready to greet the ensemble as they dismounted.
At the sight of Rowena, Mrs Honey and Gwendolyn raced forward, enveloping the young woman in an embrace. “We are glad to see you returned safely to us,” Gwendolyn said.
Mrs Honey inspected Rowena from head to toe. “Aside from appearing like a bit of a fright, and smelling like ye rolled in dead fish, ye look well, my child.”
The Grey Lady came forward as well and enveloped her daughter in her mist. Dearest child, I was so worried. It was the closest thing to a hug her ghostly form could offer.
Rowena laughed. “I am home, and all is well. As much as I love all of you, I would desperately love a long, hot bath, and one of your apple tarts, Mrs Honey. Is that a possibility?”
The cook let out a squeal of delight. “Of course! Mrs Bagley and I will boil water for your bath and get started on those tarts right now. Tonight there will be tarts for everyone.” Finding comfort in the task of cooking for those she loved, Mrs Honey motioned for Mrs Bagley to join her as they headed back towards the keep and the kitchen below.
Tormod turned to Fiona. He cupped her face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over the soft curves of her cheeks. “I fear I must leave you for a while to settle the horses. They deserve a rub-down and a hearty serving of oats for all their hard work. Will you meet me in the solar in an hour? There is so much we need to talk about.”
At Fiona’s nod, a grin lit up his face and brought out the dimple at the side of his cheek. “Then I will see you soon.”
Graeme came forward and took the reins from Tormod’s hands. “You do not need to care for the horses. Orrick and I can do that.” He pushed Tormod closer to Fiona. “Never put off what you should do in the moment.”
“If you are certain,” Tormod tossed back over his shoulder at his friend.
“I am. Go now and say what needs to be said.” Graeme waved him away.
Tormod graced her with another smile, but instead of leading her inside the castle, he headed for the loch. “Since we still have some daylight, I would rather talk to you down here. Is that all right with you?” Tormod stopped to help Fiona over the rocks.
“It couldn’t be more perfect.” She placed her hand on his wounded arm to steady herself, and felt a tingle run through her. Her gaze shot to Tormod’s and he smiled as though he hadn’t felt a thing.
Curious.
*
As the sky continued to darken, Tormod helped Fiona past the rocky, uneven shoreline until they came to a smoother section of the beach below the castle. He headed for a large boulder that he and his brothers often sat on when they came down here, then helped to settle Fiona on top before joining her. They were not alone at the shores of the loch. In the distance, several men searched for driftwood while others used that wood to build a pyre.
“What are those men doing?” Fiona asked, studying the figures dotting the beach.
Tormod gazed at the long, shapely legs stretched out on the rock before him and smiled appreciatively. “Preparing for the Samhain celebration tomorrow night.”
“Does the castle celebrate the birth of you and your brothers or the end of the harvest season?”
“A little of both. The festival goes on for three days, with much food and merriment.” He caught her hand. Her fingers twisted with his.
“I’ve never been to a Samhain festival.”
He turned to her and raised her hand, entwined with his, to his lips. “Some of the villagers and castle residents disguise themselves as animals or spirits, trying to avoid attacks from evil spirits or so they won’t be kidnapped by fairies.”
“Will we wear disguises?”
“There will be no need.” He smiled down at her leather-clad form. “I’ll be beside you, protecting you from harm. Though it was you who protected and fought for me today, my sweet warrior.”
“I think it’s these trousers. They make me feel brave.” She bit her lip, trying to hide a sudden wayward smile. “No wonder men are so fearsome in battle. Wearing trousers, or even a kilt all the time must be quite liberating.”
“They are,” he agreed and matched her smile. “But in the future, the only one I want you to wear those trousers for is me. Your legs and your buttocks are more than a little appealing wrapped in leather.”
“Might I tuck these away for special occasions? Someday I might need to follow my husband back into battle.”
His gaze moved to her still-bruised neck.
“It will heal. Alex might have escaped, but I’d like to think that the fairy magic that protected us today will continue. He cannot hurt any of us as long as we have the fairies on our side.”
“You think it was fairy magic that protected us this day?”
She shifted her gaze to the loch. Several seals had gathered where the water remained still before it crested against the beach. The creatures stared at the two of them, watching, waiting. “What about your father?”
Fiona drew a long breath. “That was Alex, not the fairies. There is only so much their magic can do.”
His brows came together. “You really believe that strongly in their magical influence over our lives? I’m a MacLeod by blood, and even I don’t believe that.”
She reached for the length of tartan covering his wound and untied it. “Then how do you explain this?” She removed the bandage to reveal perfectly healed flesh beneath. No blood remained, no wound, and no scar from what had only hours before been a deep gash, almost down to the bone.
“How is this possible?”
Fiona shrugged and sadness curled her shoulders once more. “When my father was dying, I asked the fairies to help me continue to believe in their magic. And they healed you even as they let my father fade from this world.”
“I’m so sorry about your father.”
“I’ll miss his presence in my life, and I’ll miss the man he became at the end. If the fairy magic only worked to save either you or him, I’m glad it saved you.”
The sweetness of her words warmed him thoroughly, and he leaned close to brush her lips with a kiss. “I love you more than I ever thought possible.”
“And I love you.” She met his lips and captured them in a kiss that was both ardent and innocent. The silence of the moment was shattered by the barking of seals. The sea creatures bobbed their heads and splashed in the water as though rejoicing that the two of them had finally expressed the emotions deep in their hearts.
“Given the fact we have an audience, I relinquish your lips for now,” he whispered against her cheek. “But I promise a more thorough expression of my love when we are once again alone.”
Fiona nestled against him, her gaze shifting back to the water. She was silent for so long that he tilted her face up to look in his eyes.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Samhain and your mother,” she replied. “Your mother told me the barrier between the human world and spirit world thins on the eve of Samhain. Do you think that is when she will finally leave this castle and all of you?”
“She’d be leaving you as well,” he said softly. “I believe my mother is especially fond of you judging by how much she has interfered in our lives over the past few days.”
Fiona smiled. “I’m very fond of your mother. I wish her peace, yet I’d hate to see her go.”
“We won’t know for certain if she will leave us until tomorrow night.” Silence descended between them again. Tormod allowed his gaze to linger on the last threads of red and gold as they disappeared from the sky. A short time later, darkness descended and a million stars shone brightly overhead.
“I used to come here often as a lad after my mother died and to escape my father’s brutality. I would stare up at the night sky, trying to make sense of it all—her death, his pain, and my need to put it all behind me.” He exhaled, letting his gaze wander over the familiar placement of the stars. “The stars and the constellations they make up are so familiar to me. Like that star there.” He pointed towards a bright star. “That is the north star. I could see it whether I was here at home, or while in Spain, or the West Indies. The light was not as bright in the West Indies, but it was still there.”
She raised her finger to point at the same star with one eye closed as though memorising its location. “That must have brought you comfort.”
“It did. I want that same comfort for my mother, whether that is for her to remain here with us, or moving on to her final reward, perhaps amongst the stars.”
Fiona released a soft sigh. “I want that for her as well. I suppose we will have to wait until tomorrow night to find out which it will be.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
After a night and the following day spent in each other’s arms, Fiona and Tormod parted to prepare for the evening ahead. The entire castle and everyone for miles around came to celebrate Samhain. Though Fiona wished she could still wear her leather trousers, she chose to put on a dress Gwendolyn had made especially for her. Dressed in the sky-blue satin dress with a lace overdress and covered with tatted rosettes, Fiona made her way belowstairs.
Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Tormod waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He wore a surcoat and waistcoat of navy blue over a white shirt with a cravat tied in a knot. Beneath his waistcoat he was dressed in a pleated and belted tartan with accents of red, gold, and blue. The end of the tartan was brought up and draped across one shoulder, then secured to his surcoat with a large silver brooch that bore a Celtic knot design. He was clean-shaven and his dark hair was pulled back and secured with a black ribbon. He was magnificent, and he was hers.
Tormod offered her his arm. “May I escort you to the festivities?”
Eager to see the results of all the preparations, Fiona placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her outside. All the cooking had been done during the day, so no one had any other responsibilities than to enjoy themselves and eat their fill. Mrs Honey, Mrs Morgan, and Mrs Bagley had certainly seen that no one would go hungry as the celebration stretched into the night.
Long tables had been set up in the rear courtyard and were filled to overflowing with all manner of delights. On the menu were rabbit stew and herb dumplings, rosemary-seasoned lamb, hotchpotch, venison and red-currant jelly, salted herring, salmon, mussels and onions, barley bannocks, haggis, meat pies, cabbage, turnips, apples, cheese, loaves of crusty bread, with date pudding, and apple tarts for dessert.
A waxing gibbous moon hung overhead and added to the golden glow of the massive Samhain fire that burned along the shoreline. The wind carried the musical strains of bagpipes across the night, blending the sound of music with the voices of those gathered.
Gwendolyn and Alastair came to greet them. “I knew that dress would look lovely on you,” Gwendolyn said. “And just as we are nipping in the waistlines of your dresses, the seamstress will be letting mine out.”
It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Fiona smiled. “Congratulations.”
“You’re going to have a bairn?” Tormod asked his brother with a mixture of disbelief and joy in his voice.
Alastair beamed. “A son or a daughter will arrive in late spring.”
“What if there is one of each? Or possibly three?” Tormod asked with a raise of his brows.
At Tormod’s suggestion, Alastair paled and staggered on his feet. “I hadn’t considered that possibility.”
Gwendolyn laughed, coming to her husband’s side and taking him by the arm. “The man rushes into battle with no fear whatsoever, but the idea of more than one baby at a time brings him to his knees.”
Alastair placed his hand across her womb. “Can you tell if there is more than one?”
She smiled as she positioned her hand over his. “Not at this early stage. But I have no doubt we can handle whatever life throws our way, especially with our family around us.”
Orrick, Callum, and Graeme came to join them in congratulating Alastair and Gwendolyn. Not to be left out, Rowena skipped to them from across the courtyard, wearing a wreath of woven daisies upon her head and carrying an armload of others. “These are for you.” She placed a crown of flowers atop all their heads before she stopped, and turned her gaze to the Samhain fire and the ghostly figure of the Grey Lady staring at the red-gold fingers of flame that stretched towards the night sky.
Rowena’s mood sobered. “Will tonight be when Mother leaves us? She doesn’t seem all that eager to depart.”
“I’m not certain she is in control of when she leaves,” Orrick replied. “According to a fifteenth-century book on the occult, she remains tied to this world because there is something in her life that remains undone.”
Tormod frowned. “If she was going to leave on Samhain, wouldn’t she have vanished by now?”
Orrick shook his head. “The same researcher suggested that if someone were to pass to the other-world on Samhain, it would happen as the tower bell tolls midnight.”
“It’s almost midnight now.” A tear wound its way down Rowena’s cheek.
They all gathered around their mother, and as they did, Alastair pulled Gwendolyn tight against his side, while Tormod moved behind Fiona and eased her back against his chest.
“We love you, Mother,” Callum said. “And only want what is best for you.”
“Be happy in a new existence.” Orrick’s mouth lifted in a sad smile.
“Your task of protecting all of us is through.” Tormod squeezed Fiona’s fingers. “We will continue to hold you in our hearts all the rest of our days.”
“Be at peace,” Alastair said, his voice soft. “You are a remarkable woman—so brave and strong.”
The Grey Lady turned a motherly gaze on each of her children, then upon Gwendolyn and Fiona. If I have been brave, it was all for the love of you.
As the tower bell began to toll, an eerie silence came over the shore. Even the water’s advance and retreat seemed to still. Fiona held her breath and counted. As the twelfth toll faded, all eyes hung upon the Grey Lady. The mist surrounding Janet MacLeod remained constant, but the greyness about her, instead of fading, turned to a greyish blue.
They waited.
And waited.
When the tide lapped once more, Tormod smiled. “It seems you are not quite ready to leave us, Mother.”
She returned his smile. I suppose I am not. Are you disappointed?
“Nay,” Alastair exclaimed. The sentiment was echoed by the others. “As long as you are not in pain, or tormented in any way, we want you here.”
Callum picked up his mandolin and started playing a lively tune, bringing back a celebratory mood to the night once more. Dancers gathered around the fire, and they continued to celebrate the end of a successful harvest and the beginning of the shift into winter.
When Tormod’s gaze met hers, Fiona no longer saw the man who had kidnapped her and forced her into marriage. Instead, she saw a vulnerable man who had survived his own private hell to emerge strong and vital. He in turn had shared not only his strength with her, but also his heart. The years ahead would add depth to their relationship. Their shared joys and sorrows would shape them even more than they already had.
She stepped towards her husband and reached out to take his hand in hers, wrapping her fingers around it. “Are you happy tonight? After all it is your birthday.”
“I couldn’t be happier.” He ran a hand along the silken length of her plait.
“I’m certain they will.” Rowena squeezed Fiona’s fingers before releasing her hands, then she and the others moved away, leaving Fiona and Tormod alone.
Fiona stood at the gravesite, looking down at the freshly turned earth. “It seems right to leave him here, buried next to my mother. They will be the guardians of what remains of Ulster Castle in the years ahead.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Tormod asked, placing his arm around her waist and pulling her tight against his side.
Fiona cast one last glance at the gravesite. “There’s nothing anyone can do. He’s gone. Ulster is gone.” She gazed upon Tormod fully for the first time since they’d left Monkstadt behind and noted his clothes were still spattered with blood. The bandage she’d placed around the slash in his arm remained where she’d tied it. Dark shadows hovered beneath his eyes. He looked as tired and beaten down as she felt, and yet he was there beside her, supporting her in her time of need.
His brows bent inward and he gave a small shake of his head. “I am sorry I couldn’t stop Alex from killing your father.”
She shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself. That the MacDonalds did not kill him sooner was a miracle. At least I got to see him one last time. To be with him in the end.”
Fiona saw the shine of unshed tears in his eyes a moment before Tormod pulled her into his arms. He held her there for several long moments, as though nothing else in the world mattered. The chill that had come over her while witnessing her father’s death faded, replaced by Tormod’s warmth. After a while, he stepped back and with a finger against her chin, lifted her gaze to his. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I’m already home.”
He frowned. “I know how much you loved Ulster Castle.”
“Nay, Tormod.” She smiled up at him. “What I meant to say is that wherever you are, that’s where my home is.”
His eyes brightened as acceptance dawned. He held out his hand. “Then, will you come back to Dunvegan with me?”
Fiona stared at the calluses and silver-threaded scars that marked his palm. Strong and capable fingers waited patiently for her confirmation. And just like that, the tightness in her chest eased. With a hitch in her breath, she took his hand. “Aye, I’ll go with you.”
*
The pinkish-orange fingers of dusk streaked through the late evening sky as all those who’d left in the earliest hours of morning finally reached the gates of Dunvegan. Fiona was pleased when she saw Gwendolyn standing in the courtyard with Ginny, Mrs Honey, Mrs Bagley, and the Grey Lady beside her, ready to greet the ensemble as they dismounted.
At the sight of Rowena, Mrs Honey and Gwendolyn raced forward, enveloping the young woman in an embrace. “We are glad to see you returned safely to us,” Gwendolyn said.
Mrs Honey inspected Rowena from head to toe. “Aside from appearing like a bit of a fright, and smelling like ye rolled in dead fish, ye look well, my child.”
The Grey Lady came forward as well and enveloped her daughter in her mist. Dearest child, I was so worried. It was the closest thing to a hug her ghostly form could offer.
Rowena laughed. “I am home, and all is well. As much as I love all of you, I would desperately love a long, hot bath, and one of your apple tarts, Mrs Honey. Is that a possibility?”
The cook let out a squeal of delight. “Of course! Mrs Bagley and I will boil water for your bath and get started on those tarts right now. Tonight there will be tarts for everyone.” Finding comfort in the task of cooking for those she loved, Mrs Honey motioned for Mrs Bagley to join her as they headed back towards the keep and the kitchen below.
Tormod turned to Fiona. He cupped her face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over the soft curves of her cheeks. “I fear I must leave you for a while to settle the horses. They deserve a rub-down and a hearty serving of oats for all their hard work. Will you meet me in the solar in an hour? There is so much we need to talk about.”
At Fiona’s nod, a grin lit up his face and brought out the dimple at the side of his cheek. “Then I will see you soon.”
Graeme came forward and took the reins from Tormod’s hands. “You do not need to care for the horses. Orrick and I can do that.” He pushed Tormod closer to Fiona. “Never put off what you should do in the moment.”
“If you are certain,” Tormod tossed back over his shoulder at his friend.
“I am. Go now and say what needs to be said.” Graeme waved him away.
Tormod graced her with another smile, but instead of leading her inside the castle, he headed for the loch. “Since we still have some daylight, I would rather talk to you down here. Is that all right with you?” Tormod stopped to help Fiona over the rocks.
“It couldn’t be more perfect.” She placed her hand on his wounded arm to steady herself, and felt a tingle run through her. Her gaze shot to Tormod’s and he smiled as though he hadn’t felt a thing.
Curious.
*
As the sky continued to darken, Tormod helped Fiona past the rocky, uneven shoreline until they came to a smoother section of the beach below the castle. He headed for a large boulder that he and his brothers often sat on when they came down here, then helped to settle Fiona on top before joining her. They were not alone at the shores of the loch. In the distance, several men searched for driftwood while others used that wood to build a pyre.
“What are those men doing?” Fiona asked, studying the figures dotting the beach.
Tormod gazed at the long, shapely legs stretched out on the rock before him and smiled appreciatively. “Preparing for the Samhain celebration tomorrow night.”
“Does the castle celebrate the birth of you and your brothers or the end of the harvest season?”
“A little of both. The festival goes on for three days, with much food and merriment.” He caught her hand. Her fingers twisted with his.
“I’ve never been to a Samhain festival.”
He turned to her and raised her hand, entwined with his, to his lips. “Some of the villagers and castle residents disguise themselves as animals or spirits, trying to avoid attacks from evil spirits or so they won’t be kidnapped by fairies.”
“Will we wear disguises?”
“There will be no need.” He smiled down at her leather-clad form. “I’ll be beside you, protecting you from harm. Though it was you who protected and fought for me today, my sweet warrior.”
“I think it’s these trousers. They make me feel brave.” She bit her lip, trying to hide a sudden wayward smile. “No wonder men are so fearsome in battle. Wearing trousers, or even a kilt all the time must be quite liberating.”
“They are,” he agreed and matched her smile. “But in the future, the only one I want you to wear those trousers for is me. Your legs and your buttocks are more than a little appealing wrapped in leather.”
“Might I tuck these away for special occasions? Someday I might need to follow my husband back into battle.”
His gaze moved to her still-bruised neck.
“It will heal. Alex might have escaped, but I’d like to think that the fairy magic that protected us today will continue. He cannot hurt any of us as long as we have the fairies on our side.”
“You think it was fairy magic that protected us this day?”
She shifted her gaze to the loch. Several seals had gathered where the water remained still before it crested against the beach. The creatures stared at the two of them, watching, waiting. “What about your father?”
Fiona drew a long breath. “That was Alex, not the fairies. There is only so much their magic can do.”
His brows came together. “You really believe that strongly in their magical influence over our lives? I’m a MacLeod by blood, and even I don’t believe that.”
She reached for the length of tartan covering his wound and untied it. “Then how do you explain this?” She removed the bandage to reveal perfectly healed flesh beneath. No blood remained, no wound, and no scar from what had only hours before been a deep gash, almost down to the bone.
“How is this possible?”
Fiona shrugged and sadness curled her shoulders once more. “When my father was dying, I asked the fairies to help me continue to believe in their magic. And they healed you even as they let my father fade from this world.”
“I’m so sorry about your father.”
“I’ll miss his presence in my life, and I’ll miss the man he became at the end. If the fairy magic only worked to save either you or him, I’m glad it saved you.”
The sweetness of her words warmed him thoroughly, and he leaned close to brush her lips with a kiss. “I love you more than I ever thought possible.”
“And I love you.” She met his lips and captured them in a kiss that was both ardent and innocent. The silence of the moment was shattered by the barking of seals. The sea creatures bobbed their heads and splashed in the water as though rejoicing that the two of them had finally expressed the emotions deep in their hearts.
“Given the fact we have an audience, I relinquish your lips for now,” he whispered against her cheek. “But I promise a more thorough expression of my love when we are once again alone.”
Fiona nestled against him, her gaze shifting back to the water. She was silent for so long that he tilted her face up to look in his eyes.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Samhain and your mother,” she replied. “Your mother told me the barrier between the human world and spirit world thins on the eve of Samhain. Do you think that is when she will finally leave this castle and all of you?”
“She’d be leaving you as well,” he said softly. “I believe my mother is especially fond of you judging by how much she has interfered in our lives over the past few days.”
Fiona smiled. “I’m very fond of your mother. I wish her peace, yet I’d hate to see her go.”
“We won’t know for certain if she will leave us until tomorrow night.” Silence descended between them again. Tormod allowed his gaze to linger on the last threads of red and gold as they disappeared from the sky. A short time later, darkness descended and a million stars shone brightly overhead.
“I used to come here often as a lad after my mother died and to escape my father’s brutality. I would stare up at the night sky, trying to make sense of it all—her death, his pain, and my need to put it all behind me.” He exhaled, letting his gaze wander over the familiar placement of the stars. “The stars and the constellations they make up are so familiar to me. Like that star there.” He pointed towards a bright star. “That is the north star. I could see it whether I was here at home, or while in Spain, or the West Indies. The light was not as bright in the West Indies, but it was still there.”
She raised her finger to point at the same star with one eye closed as though memorising its location. “That must have brought you comfort.”
“It did. I want that same comfort for my mother, whether that is for her to remain here with us, or moving on to her final reward, perhaps amongst the stars.”
Fiona released a soft sigh. “I want that for her as well. I suppose we will have to wait until tomorrow night to find out which it will be.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
After a night and the following day spent in each other’s arms, Fiona and Tormod parted to prepare for the evening ahead. The entire castle and everyone for miles around came to celebrate Samhain. Though Fiona wished she could still wear her leather trousers, she chose to put on a dress Gwendolyn had made especially for her. Dressed in the sky-blue satin dress with a lace overdress and covered with tatted rosettes, Fiona made her way belowstairs.
Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Tormod waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He wore a surcoat and waistcoat of navy blue over a white shirt with a cravat tied in a knot. Beneath his waistcoat he was dressed in a pleated and belted tartan with accents of red, gold, and blue. The end of the tartan was brought up and draped across one shoulder, then secured to his surcoat with a large silver brooch that bore a Celtic knot design. He was clean-shaven and his dark hair was pulled back and secured with a black ribbon. He was magnificent, and he was hers.
Tormod offered her his arm. “May I escort you to the festivities?”
Eager to see the results of all the preparations, Fiona placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her outside. All the cooking had been done during the day, so no one had any other responsibilities than to enjoy themselves and eat their fill. Mrs Honey, Mrs Morgan, and Mrs Bagley had certainly seen that no one would go hungry as the celebration stretched into the night.
Long tables had been set up in the rear courtyard and were filled to overflowing with all manner of delights. On the menu were rabbit stew and herb dumplings, rosemary-seasoned lamb, hotchpotch, venison and red-currant jelly, salted herring, salmon, mussels and onions, barley bannocks, haggis, meat pies, cabbage, turnips, apples, cheese, loaves of crusty bread, with date pudding, and apple tarts for dessert.
A waxing gibbous moon hung overhead and added to the golden glow of the massive Samhain fire that burned along the shoreline. The wind carried the musical strains of bagpipes across the night, blending the sound of music with the voices of those gathered.
Gwendolyn and Alastair came to greet them. “I knew that dress would look lovely on you,” Gwendolyn said. “And just as we are nipping in the waistlines of your dresses, the seamstress will be letting mine out.”
It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Fiona smiled. “Congratulations.”
“You’re going to have a bairn?” Tormod asked his brother with a mixture of disbelief and joy in his voice.
Alastair beamed. “A son or a daughter will arrive in late spring.”
“What if there is one of each? Or possibly three?” Tormod asked with a raise of his brows.
At Tormod’s suggestion, Alastair paled and staggered on his feet. “I hadn’t considered that possibility.”
Gwendolyn laughed, coming to her husband’s side and taking him by the arm. “The man rushes into battle with no fear whatsoever, but the idea of more than one baby at a time brings him to his knees.”
Alastair placed his hand across her womb. “Can you tell if there is more than one?”
She smiled as she positioned her hand over his. “Not at this early stage. But I have no doubt we can handle whatever life throws our way, especially with our family around us.”
Orrick, Callum, and Graeme came to join them in congratulating Alastair and Gwendolyn. Not to be left out, Rowena skipped to them from across the courtyard, wearing a wreath of woven daisies upon her head and carrying an armload of others. “These are for you.” She placed a crown of flowers atop all their heads before she stopped, and turned her gaze to the Samhain fire and the ghostly figure of the Grey Lady staring at the red-gold fingers of flame that stretched towards the night sky.
Rowena’s mood sobered. “Will tonight be when Mother leaves us? She doesn’t seem all that eager to depart.”
“I’m not certain she is in control of when she leaves,” Orrick replied. “According to a fifteenth-century book on the occult, she remains tied to this world because there is something in her life that remains undone.”
Tormod frowned. “If she was going to leave on Samhain, wouldn’t she have vanished by now?”
Orrick shook his head. “The same researcher suggested that if someone were to pass to the other-world on Samhain, it would happen as the tower bell tolls midnight.”
“It’s almost midnight now.” A tear wound its way down Rowena’s cheek.
They all gathered around their mother, and as they did, Alastair pulled Gwendolyn tight against his side, while Tormod moved behind Fiona and eased her back against his chest.
“We love you, Mother,” Callum said. “And only want what is best for you.”
“Be happy in a new existence.” Orrick’s mouth lifted in a sad smile.
“Your task of protecting all of us is through.” Tormod squeezed Fiona’s fingers. “We will continue to hold you in our hearts all the rest of our days.”
“Be at peace,” Alastair said, his voice soft. “You are a remarkable woman—so brave and strong.”
The Grey Lady turned a motherly gaze on each of her children, then upon Gwendolyn and Fiona. If I have been brave, it was all for the love of you.
As the tower bell began to toll, an eerie silence came over the shore. Even the water’s advance and retreat seemed to still. Fiona held her breath and counted. As the twelfth toll faded, all eyes hung upon the Grey Lady. The mist surrounding Janet MacLeod remained constant, but the greyness about her, instead of fading, turned to a greyish blue.
They waited.
And waited.
When the tide lapped once more, Tormod smiled. “It seems you are not quite ready to leave us, Mother.”
She returned his smile. I suppose I am not. Are you disappointed?
“Nay,” Alastair exclaimed. The sentiment was echoed by the others. “As long as you are not in pain, or tormented in any way, we want you here.”
Callum picked up his mandolin and started playing a lively tune, bringing back a celebratory mood to the night once more. Dancers gathered around the fire, and they continued to celebrate the end of a successful harvest and the beginning of the shift into winter.
When Tormod’s gaze met hers, Fiona no longer saw the man who had kidnapped her and forced her into marriage. Instead, she saw a vulnerable man who had survived his own private hell to emerge strong and vital. He in turn had shared not only his strength with her, but also his heart. The years ahead would add depth to their relationship. Their shared joys and sorrows would shape them even more than they already had.
She stepped towards her husband and reached out to take his hand in hers, wrapping her fingers around it. “Are you happy tonight? After all it is your birthday.”
“I couldn’t be happier.” He ran a hand along the silken length of her plait.
