“And now?” she asked, and he turned to her and smiled.
“And now how different things seem with ye at my side,” he replied.
Margaret sighed. She had thought a lot about this ever since the Elliotts had retaken Kirklinton. She felt like a stranger, an outcast almost, torn between two worlds. She was not a Musgrave, but she was not quite an Elliott either. She felt she could not be trusted, as if some did not wish her there, even though it were untrue. Margaret had thought about running away, of slipping through the gates late at night and making for the northern country as had always been her intention.
But there was something which held her back and that something was Rory Elliott. She could not simply abandon him, nor could she change how she felt about him. But could she really stay? After all that had happened, could she stay at Kirklinton and be happy?
“But do you want me at your side? I must confess that I find myself unable to see things clearly at present. Can I really stay here?” she asked, and he paused, turning to her with a look of hurt in his eyes.
They had come to the ridge which overlooked Armstrong castle. The heathers glinted in the afternoon sunshine, the sky an endless blue vista above. Swallows were flying up high, and the babble of a stream could be heard. It seemed a paradise, but Margaret knew that she now faced a choice.
“Are ye serious? Of course, ye can stay, ye must stay, Margaret, for I would be lost here without ye,” he said, taking her hands and looking beseechingly into her eyes.
“I … I did not know if you would truly wish it. Am I not a reminder of all that has happened?”
“Nay, lass, ye are the hope for all that is to come. The Musgrave line is at an end. Ye are the last, and if ye stay here, then there is the chance of peace finally comin’ to the borderlands. But I daenae want ye to stay for that, I want ye to stay because I love ye, Margaret, I love ye with all my heart,” he said, and suddenly, he knelt down before her, looking up and smiling.
Margaret’s heart skipped a beat, and her hands began to shake as he fixed her with an imploring gaze.
“Rory, I …” she began, but he shook his head.
“Ye know I love ye, and I am sorry that if for the past few days, I have been distracted. There has been much to see to, but I know ye have grieved yer sister. There is nay one who begrudges yer blood, they know that a person is what they become and nae where they are from. Ye are a Musgrave, but ye can be an Elliott too. Ye can be one entirely if ye agree to be my wife. Marry me, Margaret, tis’ all I want in the world,” he said, as she let out a cry of delight.
“Oh, Rory. Ye will have me? Ye will let me stay?” she asked, and he laughed out loud.
“Tis’ all I want, how many times must I say it? Ye are all I want, Margaret. All I desire. I would give all of this up to be with ye, but say that ye will stay, and I shall nae have to. Otherwise, I will follow ye to the ends of the earth, for there is nae another woman I could love, nae ever,” he said.
Her face was a picture as she knelt in the heather and put her arms around him. His touch was firm and strong, safe, and reassuring. With Rory, she had everything her heart could desire, and now she felt so filled with love and happiness that she could have cried out with joy.
“Of course, I shall marry you, Rory. A thousand times, yes, I shall marry you,” she said and kissed him, and they rolled over together on the heather as a gentle breeze blew over them, and the sun shone down from above.
“Ye have done much good for this clan already, lass,” Rory said, as they walked back to Kirklinton together later that afternoon.
“I have done nothing special,” she said, but he shook his head.
“Ye have succeeded in teachin’ our children somethin’ of their religion and their history. Tis’ more than the priest managed in all his years, more than the monks of Lanercost managed. We could continue to teach the children ourselves,” he said, and Margaret nodded.
“I would gladly do so, I would gladly do anything if it meant helping the clan,” she replied.
“Then that shall be yer work as mistress of the clan. Ye shall gather children of the peasants and teach them everythin’ they need to know,” he said, as they came in sight of Kirklinton.
A new gate was just being hoisted into position and Hamish came to greet them, as they walked hand in hand towards the castle.
“We shall soon sleep safely in our beds again,” he said, pointing proudly towards the gates, which were cut from solid oak timbers felled in the forest just days before.
“The men have worked hard,” Rory said, smiling at Hamish, who looked at them curiously.
“Ye seem happy, Laird,” he said, and Rory glanced at Margaret, who blushed.
“Aye, we have news to share with the clan, call them to the great hall, we shall break open a barrel of whiskey,” Rory said, much to Hamish’s surprise.
Soon, the clansmen, soldiers, and many of the peasants gathered in the great hall. Isla, Evie, Owen, Duncan, and the children stood waiting, and there was an air of expectation, as Rory advanced amongst them.
“What dae ye call us here for, Rory?” his mother asked, and Rory shook his head.
“Patience, mother, I shall speak now,” he said, raising his hands and calling for quiet.
“Hail Rory Elliott, Laird of the Elliotts, master of Kirklinton,” one of the men called out, and a cheer went up all around.
“Pray yer silence, men, women, friends,” Rory said, his hands still raised, “We have done much to secure our lands and to make this castle strong again. For that, I thank each of ye and pray a blessin’ upon ye. We have nae long mourned the passin’ of my father, but already much tragedy and difficulty have befallen us. What I long for is peace and prosperity of this clan, for each of ye to be given his due and live good and honest lives.”
“And we shall support ye in that, Laird,” one of the men called out, “ye have proved yerself in battle, ye are a worthy successor to yer father,” and a cry of agreement went up all around.
“To have men such as ye as my clansmen is all that a man can desire,” Rory said, but now turned to Margaret and beckoned her over.
She blushed, as all eyes fell upon her and reluctantly joined Rory at his side.
“I will not speak,” she said, feeling nervous at the gaze of the clansmen.
“I shall nae make ye, lass,” he whispered, before turning back to the clan, “but a man cannae live only by the loyalty of his men. Tis’ with a woman at his side that he must prosper, and so, I have some good news to share with ye this day. Ye all know Margaret, and ye know that she has a past she might rather forget, but she has done much good amongst us in the short time that we have known her, much good indeed.”
“She has educated our children, she has been a good and loyal friend to many, she rescued not only myself but my uncle too on the road to Lanercost, and she has been staunch in her loyalty and goodwill towards this clan. For that, I thank her, and I tell ye that she has now consented to be my wife. No longer shall she be a Musgrave, she shall be an Elliott and the mistress of this clan.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Evie stepped forward, smiling at Margaret, who was terrified for what the reaction to this news might be.
“Rory, Laird, ye have proved yerself our worthy leader, the worthy inheritor of our father’s title. Ye have every right to choose the wife ye wish, but I must surely speak for us all when I say that had we imagined ye would choose a Musgrave, then uproar would ensue,” she said, looking around her, as several of the clansmen nodded.
“Evie, I …” Margaret began, but Evie raised her hand.
“But dae we hold the past against someone? Or a name as a judgment? Nay, if we did, then I should never have married Hamish, and my father would never have married my mother. Our clan has a unique history of those who daenae dae what they are meant to or what is expected of them, yet still, we prevail. I, for one, couldnae think of a better choice of a wife than Margaret, and I wish ye both all the happiness in t
he world,” Evie said, embracing Margaret, as a cheer went up from the clan.
“God preserve our Laird and bless this union,” one of the men cried, and a resounding agreement echoed around the great hall.
Rory turned to Margaret, bringing her into his embrace and kissing her upon the lips. The sun was shining upon them through the windows of the great hall, casting its rays upon the happy scene. Margaret could not have felt more joyful, no longer a stranger but now at the very heart of this family, a family which was now hers, the family she had always longed for.
“I love ye, Margaret, I shall love and honor ye all our days together. I promise ye,” he whispered as she smiled up at him.
“And I shall love ye too, Rory. I love ye with all my heart, ye have made a home for me and given me the family I have always desired,” she replied, as he kissed her once again.
They waited only a few days before the marriage, and preparations were soon made for a feast. The wedding would take place in the great hall, presided over by Duncan and Owen so that all the clan could gather.
Margaret wore a dress which had belonged to Isla, and a proclamation went out to summon all the clan to Kirklinton for the celebration. The day dawned bright and breezy upon the moorlands, and Margaret, though still mourning for her sister, felt a renewed hope for the future.
“The hour has come, Rory,” she said, as they joined arms at the door of the great hall, Margaret escorted by Evie and Isla while Rory came dressed in his best tunic, accompanied by Hamish with sprigs of heath in their cloak clasps.
“Aye, and then we shall feast. All our clan is gathered, our priest will bring God’s blessin’ to us, and we shall start on the new beginnin’ which we spoke of. Why should we wait a moment longer?” Rory asked, and Margaret looked at him in delight.
“Then let it be so,” she said as they entered the great hall, and a cheer went up from the gathered clansmen.
The tables in the great hall had been pushed to one side, and the clansmen took seats on all sides. The castle chapel would not have been big enough to hold them, but the cross and candles had been brought from the altar and set up on a table placed in front of the fireplace. The family gathered around as witnesses, and Rory and Margaret joined hands as they came to stand before Duncan and Owen.
“Marriage is a holy union, blessed by God himself. In this sacrament, ye make yer vows and offer yerselves to one another for the rest of yer lives. May the Lord bless ye and keep ye, may he make his face to shine upon ye and may he be gracious to ye all the days of yer life,” Duncan said.
The vows were simple, yet Margaret felt each word imprinted upon her soul as she promised to love Rory all the days of her life, to stand by him in difficulty, and to honor him always. As he pronounced his own vows, his eyes were ever fixed upon her, a look of utmost love and tenderness upon his face. How she loved him, the words for which she could not find, but she knew he felt them too, as Duncan pronounced them man and wife.
“But I have nay ring for ye,” Rory said, suddenly looking aghast.
“Wait, son, tis’ all right,” Isla said, stepping forward and rummaging in her pocket.
She drew out a thin band of gold, which sparkled in the sunlight coming through the window.
“What ring is this, mother?” Rory asked, and his mother smiled.
“Dae ye nae recognize it, son?” she asked, and Rory shook his head.
“Tis’ the ring yer grandfather gave to me all those years ago, the one with which yer father and I married all those years ago. Give it now to Margaret, welcome her into our clan,” she said, and Rory smiled, taking the ring, as he turned again to Margaret and placed it gently upon her finger.
“A ring with which to wed ye, a ring to bind our love, a ring to call down blessin’ from God in heaven above,” he said, and Margaret smiled at him.
“A ring for me to treasure, the whole of life long through, to bind our love together, a love which is so true,” she said, repeating the ancient rhyme, as he leaned in to kiss her once more.
“May God’s blessin’ be upon ye both and let us celebrate this happy union,” Duncan said as a cheer went up all around the great hall, and Rory and Margaret were wedded.
“I never thought that such a happy day would come,” she whispered as he kissed her again upon the cheek.
“Nor did I, I never thought I could be happy, nae like this,” he replied, gazing lovingly into her eyes.
“I will always love you, Rory, whatever the future holds, whatever our lives may be, our love will remain,” she said, knowing that at last, she had found the happiness she had always longed for and the hope of life to come.
The End?
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Afterword
Thank you for reading my novel, A Highlander Marked by Fate. I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, could you please be so kind to write your review HERE?
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Highlanders of Kirklinton
Book#1
A Highlander Forged in Fire
Book#2
A Highlander Born from Chaos
Book#3 (this book)
A Highlander Marked by Fate
Do you want more Romance?
If you’re a true fan of the Scottish romance genre, here are the first chapters of the previous story in this series, which was among my very first best-selling novels: A Highlander Born from Chaos
This is the tale of a Highlander entrapped by the sins of his father and a rebellious lass who must defy her family's great legacy to find herself. Surrendering to a forbidden love that it was never meant to be, can these two escape their destinies without unleashing chaos to the Highlands?
A Highlander Born from Chaos
Prologue
As the coffin was lowered into the ground, a tear ran down Evie Elliott’s face. It had begun to rain, and there was a cold, icy wind blowing across the graveyard, causing the gathered clansmen to huddle close together, as the priest intoned the solemn words of burial.
“Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord and may light perpetual shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen,” and they all replied, “Amen.”
Evie made the sign of the cross over herself and turned to her two brothers, who both did the same. Her face was stained with tears, and her hands were shaking.
“Come here, lass, huddle under my cloak,” her brother, Owen, said, and she gladly took shelter with him.
“And that is it, our grandfather is gone,” she said, sniffing and resting her head upon Owen’s shoulder.
“Gone, but nae forgotten,” replied her brother Rory, who was stood at their side.
“He suffered badly at the end,” Owen said, “he is at peace now, and with Lena too,” and he glanced back at the grave.
The old Laird, their grandfather, had been buried in the churchyard of the Kirk in Lochrutton. It was a simple monument, for Alistair Elliott had requested such. He was buried next to Lena, the woman he had come to love and whom Evie and her brothers had always referred to as grandmother. Once more, Evie sighed, and fresh tears ran down her face as she began to sob.
“Come now, Evie. Be strong, our grandfather wouldnae wish to see ye cry,” Owen said, his strong arms holding her close, as Rory nodded.
“Aye, he would tell ye to save yer tears for those that mattered,” he said.
“But he did matter, I miss him terribly,” she replied, for she and her grandfather had always been close.
“And we shall all remember him and give thanks for having done so,” Owen said.
Evie nodded, she knew her grandfathe
r would not wish to see her in such a state, but his death had been so sudden, brought on by a terrible illness and one which she had been powerless to help nurse. Even her father, who was known for his gentle touch and healing arts, had been able to do nothing, and now she looked across to where he stood with her mother at the graveside.
“Tis Mother that I fear for; she has nae been the same since he died,” she said, wiping her eyes as the rain grew heavier around them.
A Highlander Marked by Fate: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Kirklinton Book 3) Page 25