by Bree Wolf
Completely unaware of the woman in the room, Claudia stared at the small bundle in the woman’s arms.
Wrapped in a blanket, only her son’s face peeked out, his eyes pressed shut and his mouth open as he cried, squirming in Sophie’s hold.
Taking a deep breath, Claudia stepped forward, her hands trembling with an emotion she could not name. “Give him to me.”
Sophie hesitated, then looked past Claudia before nodding in agreement. “Fine.” Crossing the small room in two strides, she stopped and then leaned toward Claudia, gently lifting the boy and offering him to his mother.
Afraid she might drop him or hurt him somehow, Claudia hesitated for the barest of seconds. But then her son’s soft cries dug deeper into her heart, and she reached out to him without thought. An old instinct took over, and she gently slipped her arm around him, cradling his head in its crook. Then she stepped away from the other two in the room, and everything else ceased to matter.
Feeling her son’s small weight in her arms for the first time, Claudia retreated into a world all her own. Her eyes misted with tears as she gazed down at him and felt his warmth, his strength, his presence. Instinctively, she bounced in her step, rocking him gently as he cried, fighting to free his little hands from the confinement of the blanket. “Hush, hush, little Aiden. Everything shall be fine,” she cooed under her breath when the melody of an old lullaby rose in her mind.
Singing softly, she stepped up to the porthole to get a better look at her son. Dark tufts of hair stood on his head, and his rosy skin shimmered, his head slightly red as he continued to cry. His little hands punched the air as though he was eager to share something but could not find the words.
A smile came to Claudia’s face when one little hand curled into the fabric of her dress, holding on tightly as though wanting to make sure that she would not leave him again.
A moment later, his cries stopped, and he opened his eyes, looking up at her.
Claudia’s lip quivered, and her breath caught in her throat when his blue eyes found hers. Her heart rejoiced, and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was hers and always would be. And yet, more importantly, she realised that she was his, heart and soul, and that from this day forward she would hold her hand over him until the day she would breathe her last.
Because he was her son.
Her heart.
And he knew it.
Smiling, Claudia brushed the back of a finger across his cheek and over his forehead, her eyes transfixed by the sight of her son. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” she whispered, “but I will never leave you again. I promise.”
For a short moment, a smile lit up her son’s face, and green flecks danced in his blue eyes, a reminder of who his father was.
Belatedly, Claudia realised that she was alone with her son and wondered where the other two had gone and why they would leave her alone. However, a moment later, her son’s soft gurgles drew her attention once more, and she sat down on the lower cot, drawing up her legs and leaning her back against the wall as the ship gently swayed. “Life is never easy, little Aiden,” she whispered to him. “Unfortunately, you already know that. But if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that great heartache can lead to great joy.” Smiling, she leaned down and kissed him gently on the nose. “Your father will come for us. I know he will. So, don’t worry.” She brushed a hand down his arm, and before she knew it, his little fingers wrapped around one of hers, holding on with a strength she had not expected. “I promise I will do whatever I can to bring you back home,” she vowed. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mama is here.”
Rocking her son gently, Claudia closed her eyes, dimly hearing her own mother’s voice from long ago. Having a child is like walking around for the rest of your life with your heart outside of your body.
It was not until now, until this very moment, that Claudia understood exactly what her mother had meant.
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Meant to Be
Still kneeling on the docks, Garrett kept his eyes fixed on the distant horizon where the merchant ship had vanished some time ago. Despair came rushing at him from all sides as he remembered his wife’s tear-streaked face, her sorrowful blue eyes looking back into his, and his heart clenched painfully as though it no longer had the strength to continue on.
The worst had happened. Not only had he failed to save his son, but he had also lost his wife in the process. Now, they were both gone, sailing across the ocean to a new world − in the hands of a madman! What would await them once they reached America? What were Mr. Adams’ plans?
Garrett’s teeth clenched together painfully as he remembered the look in the other man’s face, the way he had all but gazed at Claudia, no doubt seeing in her the realisation of his dreams. In his heart, Garrett had no doubt that his wife’s cousin would seek to claim her and their son as his own.
A growl of utter and pure anguish and frustration rang from Garrett’s throat. His hands balled into fists, and he let his gaze sweep over his surroundings, desperate for something − anything! − to sink his frustration into.
But there was nothing.
Nothing save the far, endless sky and an ocean to match it.
I’ve never even seen my son’s face.
That thought suddenly sprang up in Garrett’s mind, and he groaned in agony, fearing that he had lost his only chance. Would he ever see his son? Would he ever get to gaze down upon him? Or would he forever be doomed to remember him as a mere fact alone? Not a person of flesh and blood?
His blood!
Sinking back onto his heels, Garrett drew in a deep breath, knowing that even if he were to find a way to cross the sea and reach the colonies, there was no guarantee that he would find them. From what he had heard, the new world was a vast and equally-endless place. A wilderness yet uncharted.
And what if they never even reached America? The journey was perilous, and many died in their attempts to make a new life for themselves and their families. And his boy was only a few weeks old. Would he even survive the journey?
A surge of protectiveness went through Garrett in that moment as he pictured his infant son as best as he could. It gripped his heart and strengthened his limbs, pushing him to his feet with a strength he had thought lost.
His lips pressed into a thin line, grim and determined, as his gaze returned to the horizon. “I made ye a promise, Lass,” he whispered, “and I willna fail ye.”
Lifting his head, Garrett squared his shoulders, ignoring the doubts that ran through his head. He would find a ship to the colonies. He would buy passage on it. And once in America, he would do everything humanly possible to find his family.
He had found them once.
He could do so again.
“Garrett!”
Tensing, Garrett blinked, certain he had imagined the voice calling his name. Still, in his mind, he saw his friend Finn, his dark auburn curls framing a laughing face with startling green eyes that more often than not spoke of some kind of mischief.
As children they had gotten into all kinds of trouble, always thinking up one daring plan after another. How often had their mothers thrown up their hands in surrender? How often had they chided them to no avail? How often had they called the laird to speak to their boys?
Foolish, their mothers had called them. Daring, they had called themselves.
No one and nothing had ever been able to separate them, to sever their friendship.
After finally claiming his own true love after a lifetime of foolish pranks, Finn had been the one to urge Garrett to return to England and look for Claudia for as long as it would take to find her. He had been the one to persuade Cormag to listen to Moira and let Garrett go.
With hope in his heart as well as the knowledge that it could not be, Garrett slowly turned around, only to have his breath knocked from his lungs.
Right there striding down the docks toward him was Finn.
Garrett blinked, certain that his eyesight had to be impaired
. Certain that he was hallucinating. But then he spotted fair-haired Ian by Finn’s side. Ian was an old friend as well, who, however, had always had the good sense not to go along with all their childhood mischief making. Always cautious−suspicious even−he tended to question just about everything.
There was no reason Garrett’s mind−under any circumstances−would conjure up an image of Ian. Thus, the man had to be real, which also meant that Finn was as well.
Staring at his two friends, Garrett felt his forehead crease into deep furrows, trying to understand how on earth his friends had found their way to Glasgow.
And today of all days.
When they saw him, saw the look on his face, the joyous expressions on theirs soon changed into something darker, filled with concern and a hint of dread. Immediately, they quickened their pace, rushing toward him as Garrett continued to stand rooted to the spot, unable to move for fear they would simply vanish into thin air.
“Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost,” Ian observed, his gaze narrowed as he cast suspicious glances around them. “What’s going on?”
Garrett inhaled a deep breath as utter relief flooded his heart. “Ye’ve no idea how glad I am to see ye.”
“What’s happened?” Finn asked, clasping a hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “We didna know ye were back from England.”
Garrett shook his head, unable to contain the slightly hysteric laugh that spilled from his lips. “Then what on earth are ye doing here? When I heard ye calling my name, I was certain I was seeing things.”
While Ian’s face darkened, a scowl claiming his features, Finn laughed, his green eyes shining brightly as though he had seldom had such a good time. “Cormag sent us.”
“Cormag?” Garrett repeated, trying to understand. “But how would he−?”
“Did ye find her?” Finn interrupted, eagerness in his voice as he searched Garrett’s face. “Yer wife? Is she with ye?” After allowing his gaze to sweep their surroundings, it returned to meet Garrett’s. “Come, man, do not keep us waiting!”
Feeling a new sting in his heart, Garrett sighed, and Finn’s face immediately darkened. “I found her, aye. Her and my son.”
Both men’s eyes widened. “Yer son?” they asked in unison.
Pride fought its way to the surface of Garrett’s being until a deep smile claimed his features. “Aye, I have a son. Aiden.” He inhaled a deep breath. “’Tis a long story, one better told around a roaring fire.”
“Congratulations!” Finn beamed, slapping Garrett on the shoulder. Now, that he himself had tied the knot, he seemed particularly happy when others did as well. “Where are they?”
Garrett hung his head, and yet, the anger that swelled in his chest−anger born out of helplessness−tightened every muscle in his body. His eyes narrowed, and he was pleased to see that his friends knew him well enough to understand that what he was about to say was of the utmost importance. “There’s a madman in my wife’s past,” he began, noting the way Finn’s jaw twitched. “He stole my son days after he was born, and now he’s forced my wife on board a ship to the colonies, threatening our son if she refused him.” Gritting his teeth, Garrett stood up straighter. “I need to go after them. I canna allow that man to harm them.”
Rather unexpectedly, a smirk curled up the corners of Finn’s mouth, and for a moment, he closed his eyes as though he had just heard something he could not believe. “Ye’ll be needing a ship then, I take it?”
Garrett nodded, glancing from Finn to Ian. “Aye,” he confirmed, wondering what his friends knew that he was not aware.
“Cormag sent a message to Clan MacKinnear,” Ian said, the sound of his voice suggesting that he disagreed with their laird’s decision, “and they promised to have a ship in Glasgow the day after tomorrow.”
Staring at Ian, Garrett now felt inclined to doubt his hearing. Certainly, he was aware that Clan MacKinnear was an old ally and had been for centuries. As they were located mainly on the group of islands to the west of Scotland, they were in possession of a number of ships which were mainly used for trade. “They’re coming here?”
Finn nodded, a serious grin on his face if ever there was one.
Feeling the air rush from his lungs, Garrett leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees, his mind spinning with what he had just heard. How was this possible?
After a couple of deep breaths, he straightened. “How?” he asked, glancing from one friend to the other. “How did ye know? I never had the chance to send a message.” He shook his head. “It wouldna have reached ye in time. How could ye possibly know that I needed a ship? I didna even know it myself until two hours ago.”
The two men exchanged a knowing look. However, while Finn smiled, a hint of utter joy on his face, Ian seemed to be grumbling under his breath, “Moira.”
For a moment, everything came to a halt as Garrett remembered the pale beauty from Clan Brunwood whispered to have the second sight. She had been banished after betraying her own clan and conspiring to harm their laird’s wife. People tended to mistrust her, wondering who would be next to feel her wrath. Would she betray them as she had betrayed her own clan? Her own people? Her kin?
And yet, Garrett could not deny that Moira had been instrumental in guiding him down his path. After all, it had been she who had urged Cormag to send him to Gretna Green−unknown to Garrett at the time. If she had not insisted, he would never even have met his wife, and his son would never have been.
And now, here she was sending him help the moment he needed it the most. Perhaps Moira was more than she seemed to be. Perhaps she deserved a second chance.
Looking to Finn, Garrett drew in a deep breath, “Moira knew.”
Finn nodded. “Aye. She went straight to Cormag, and they fought over what to do for two days.” The grin on his friend’s face deepened. “He never had a chance against her.”
Ian’s face darkened, and a disapproving growl rose from his throat as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “He oughtna listen to that traitor when others provide loyal counsel,” he grumbled, a sneer on his face that spoke of more than his disappointment with their laird’s decision. “What if she had led us into a trap? We could’ve all been killed.”
Shaking his head, Finn laughed, “I fear yer imagination is running away with ye, old friend.”
Ian’s countenance darkened further. “Tell me why I oughta trust her? She has never done anything to deserve it. On the contrary.”
“She’s been trying to redeem herself,” Finn counselled, his gaze sobering as he looked at Ian. Then his gaze shifted to Garrett. “She sent ye to Gretna Green, did she not?”
Garrett nodded. “I didna know it then, but aye, she did.” He looked at Ian. “I understand what ye’re saying. If she’s betrayed her kin once, how can we be certain she willna do so again?”
Ian nodded vigorously. “And we’re not even her kin! If she didna feel loyal to them, why ought she feel loyal to us?”
Garrett shrugged. “I canna give ye an answer that will put yer mind at ease, old friend. But I can tell ye that everybody makes mistakes; everybody has regrets. Perhaps Finn is right. Perhaps she’s been trying to redeem herself. Use her gift to help instead of harm.”
Ian’s lips thinned, and Garrett could see that his explanation was not good enough for his friend. To win Ian over, Moira would have to move the earth. Not an easy task.
“Whatever her reasons,” Garrett continued, turning his gaze to Finn, “I’m grateful for her help. I’m only wondering how she managed to convince Cormag. I mean, ‘tis one thing to have me go to Gretna Green, but to send word to Clan MacKinnear and ask them to send a ship is no small favour. Why would he believe her?”
Finn laughed, rolling his eyes as though the answer should be obvious. “Why would a man believe a woman when there’s no obvious reason for him to do so?” he asked, raising his brows, his eyes finding Garrett’s.
Garrett frowned, remembering the moments of awkward silence he had witnessed every now
and then when entering his laird’s study and finding Moira there with him. Alone. “Ye mean−?”
Finn nodded. “Aye. ‘Twould be easier on everyone if Cormag finally admitted that he cares for the lass.”
Ian grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, his opinion clearly differing from Finn’s. Still, Garrett could not help but hope that Finn was right. Cormag was an old friend of theirs, and the burden of laird had found him early in life. While he bore it well, Garrett had always thought that a loving wife by his side would ease the strain. Perhaps Moira was the one. Perhaps they could help each other.
“Do ye truly think he might offer for her?” Garrett asked Finn, ignoring the fact that Ian’s face had paled at his question. “He’s always been so steadfast and reasonable, not one to take a flight of fancy. ‘Twould be very unlike him.”
Finn nodded. “Aye, he’s always been rather stuffy and ill-humoured at times, but ye canna deny that he treats her differently. He tries to hide it, but ‘tis there.”
Garrett nodded, knowing from personal experience how powerful love could be, how it could alter one’s view of the world and rearrange one’s priorities.
Since meeting Claudia, everything had changed. His world now revolved around her, and Garrett could not imagine for that to ever change. She was like the sun to him, her rays warming his soul and her steadfast position allowing him to stay the course and make his way.
He needed her back.
“Ye said the ship will be here the day after tomorrow?”
Finn nodded.
“Good. Then we shall be ready,” Garrett said, knowing he would have to be patient, knowing that it would be utter torture to sit and wait, knowing equally well that Claudia was worth it.
He would find her, and then he would wring Mr. Adams’ scrawny neck.
Chapter Thirty − Faith
The first few days on board the merchant vessel, Claudia was confined to her cabin with either Mr. Adams or his sister Sophie watching her at all times. Their eyes would narrow whenever she rose to her feet to walk around the small cabin, her son in her arms as though they were one.