Highland Yule: A MacLomain and MacLauchlin Hogmanay Tale

by Sky Purington

  “Ye dinnae need to be sorry,” he replied. “He would have liked ye weaving an image of this tree. My brother loved this spot as much as we do. ‘Twas verra special to him because of his many memories of ye beneath it and because of what happened beside it.”

  “Where I stood when ye took down the boar,” she murmured.

  “Aye,” he said. “He thought it a blessed location because ye survived.”

  He was not the only one who felt that way either.

  Colmac recalled with vivid clarity the calm focus that fell over him when the boar raced at her. Though fearful for the bonny lass, he released arrow after arrow, well-aimed all, and finally felled the beast moments before it reached her. He would never forget the thankfulness in her gaze when their eyes met for the first time. The way she made him feel

  In truth, a part of him might have fallen in love with her that very moment.

  “Och,” Rona whispered, wiping away a tear. She crouched in front of the stone and ran her fingers over the engraving. It had Bróccín’s name and their clan's motto beneath it. Fortis Et Fidus, or “strong and faithful.”

  “’Tis beautifully engraved.” Her fingers slowed on the words. She glanced up at him over her shoulder. “Ye carved this, did ye not?”

  “Aye.” He crouched beside her and gazed at the stone. “’Twas an honor...and it helped me. I thought of him as I made this, reliving our many times together. It helped me through my grief.”

  “I ken,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over the words again. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “’Twas the same way for me when weaving the tapestry. It helped...it really did...”

  Her lips trembled no matter how hard she pressed them together. He knew she had reached her limit. The time had finally come that she’d long dreaded. The harsh reality of Bróccín’s death. She gripped the stone to keep steady, but the trembling of her lips spread to the rest of her body.

  So he did the only thing he could.

  He stood, pulled her into his arms, and held her tight.

  Chapter Five

  Rona had no idea how long she wept silently against Colmac’s chest only that once the grief finally subsided, she felt lighter than she had in a long time. Yet still, she lingered, comforted by his warmth. He not only held her but cocooned his cloak around her to shelter her from the wind.

  “Thank ye,” she eventually whispered, pulling back enough to gaze at him. His eyes had shifted to the exact vibrant shade of the pines behind him. “Thank ye for being here for him when I couldnae be.”

  “Aye, lass,” he said softly. When his gaze lingered on her eyes then dropped to her lips, Rona's breath caught at what she saw. The barely checked desire. He obviously meant to say more but instead cleared his throat and stepped away. But not before he gripped her upper arms gently. “Are ye well enough to stand on yer own?”

  She cleared her throat and nodded. “I am.”

  “Aye?”

  “Aye.”

  He slowly released her and stepped back, still staring at her in a way she had wished he would countless times in her youth. She might be innocent in many ways but not in this. Not when it came to the simple admiration of a man. She had felt it from him in the tunnel and again here. Why now, though? Because she was available? Or could it be Brighid was right, and this went back further?

  Not sure what to say while wanting to say so much, she simply stared at him. Colmac, in turn, did the same until he finally found his tongue. “Shall we see where things lead then?” He shook his head and offered a small smile that relieved the tension of the moment. “What I mean to say is would ye like to look in our hideaway now?”

  “Aye.” She offered a small smile in return and glanced at its location. “Let us see if Bróccín has more to share.”

  To hear from their loved one after his passing was an extraordinary and cherished gift. So she tried to remain calm while Colmac brushed aside snow, removed the stone, and then reached his arm in.

  “Well?” she said, growing impatient while he felt around.

  “I dinnae think...” He paused, and his eyes grew wide. “Wait, I feel something!”

  She crowded forward, eager to see, then put a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed when he pulled out a scroll. It was tied with the same red ribbon only the holly was dry and brittle.

  “It has been here for some time.” Colmac urged her back into the hallway and shut the door against the wind. He handed it over gingerly. “Be careful, lass. Whilst protected enough, the damp chill wasnae good for it.”

  In full agreement, Rona handed him the dry holly and untied the ribbon with great care. Then she slowly unraveled the parchment and nodded, biting her lower lip. “’Tis faded but readable.”

  “Och, he took a chance hiding it there, aye?” he said. “So what does it say?”

  She read it aloud.

  My Dearest Lass,

  If ye’re reading this, then ye’ve just said yer farewells to me. I wish it could have been different, love. That I could have been there waiting at the front door of MacLauchlin Castle upon yer arrival. But God had other plans, and we must trust in that. Whilst hard to part ways, we arenae lacking for we had such wonderful times together. ‘Tis that which ye should remember now. Dancing. Life. All that brought ye joy. So for me, dance again like we did that first time. Then remember what came next and discover even more...

  Yers,

  Bróccín

  She wiped away another tear and looked at Colmac, who appeared equally affected. “So...I dance then?”

  “Ye always did love to.” He scanned the message. “I was there the first time ye danced.”

  “Aye.” She admired his profile, remembering the day Bróccín spoke of. “’Twas the same day ye and I danced for the first time as well.”

  In all honesty, she had shared many first moments with the brothers. They were fast friends, so it made sense.

  “’Twas the same day,” he whispered, staring at the parchment a moment longer before his eyes met hers. What was that in his gaze? The obvious sentiment? She got the sense it had nothing to do with her and Bróccín.

  “What is it, Colmac?”

  His gaze lingered on her a moment longer then he shook his head. “Nothing. I was just thinking about what my brother means in his missive.” He carefully rolled the parchment. “’Twas Hogmanay, was it not? Right here at this castle?”

  “Aye.” She recalled it fondly. The merry light in Bróccín’s bright blue eyes and his flaming red face when he tentatively approached her. “’Twas the first time he asked me to dance as the adults did.” She smiled. “’Twas the first time a boy ever looked at me like he did.”

  “The first time?” Colmac murmured, his voice barely audible. He gently retied the ribbon around the scroll.

  “Aye,” she said just as softly, caught by the strange look in his gaze. He meant to say more, did he not? Something he kept from her. She should leave it alone, but she needed to know. “Do ye know of another that looked at me that way?”

  He was careful as ever reattaching the holly, his attention on the scroll though she knew he wanted to look at her.

  “Ye turned many a head that year, lass. Ye were just too sweet and humble to know it.” He handed the scroll back to her, emotion churning in his gaze. “’Tis no wonder ye caught Bróccín’s heart well and true that eve.”

  Ensnared by the angst in his gaze, she could barely find her voice. “Did I then?”

  “Did ye not?”

  She narrowed her eyes then widened them in understanding. “He told ye, aye? What he said to me?”

  “He told me everything always.” His gaze grew more turbulent. “So, aye, the next eve, he told me he loved ye.”

  Tension knotted her shoulders because she finally saw the truth of things in his steady gaze. What happened between her and Colmac that night had not been her imagination. Nay, based on the anguish in his eyes, it had been very real.

  Though afraid to ask, she had to know. “And what did
ye say to yer brother when he declared his love for me?”

  His eyes remained with hers for an excruciatingly long moment then he looked away and shrugged. “I told him what any good brother would. That ye were a fine lass, and he should pursue ye.”

  Rona didn't need to mull that over long before anger flared. Now was not the time to be upset about this, but that didn't change her response any. Her raw emotions when she realized what he had turned from. What he’d given up despite the good that had come from it. The genuine love she eventually found with his brother.

  “A fine lass?” She pocketed the scroll and headed down the hall. “I was more than that and well ye know it,” she muttered, speaking when she should remain silent. Saying things that had no place in this moment. This hallway. So close to her deceased beloved considering she spoke naught of him. “Ye and I danced,” she ground out. “And ‘twas verra much something...”

  He caught up but remained behind her. “’Twas but a dance, lass.”

  She shook her head. “Nay, ‘twas more.”

  So very much more.

  After all, she and Colmac had danced first.

  She remembered how she'd felt in his arms. One moment it had been normal. They had laughed and chatted like the good friends they were. Then the rowdy crowd had pushed her into his arms, and everything changed.

  In that singular moment, the second he pulled her against him and their gazes locked, she went from seeing the world through a girl’s eyes to viewing it through a woman’s.

  “’Twas more!” Suddenly so angry she couldn’t see straight, she spun in front of the door to the great hall and pointed her finger at his chest. “Ye felt it.” She pressed her palm against her own chest. “I felt it.” She shook her head, releasing all her pent up frustration. Not just at him, but all the death. All the loss. “’Twas there...” She glared at him in disbelief. “And ‘twas something so much bigger than us!”

  Colmac clenched his jaw, his gaze thunderous and emotional for a moment before he breathed deeply and gathered himself. He shook his head in denial and set the torch in a wall bracket. “Nay, ‘twas betwixt ye and my brother.”

  “Eventually.” Though shocked by the words pouring from her mouth, there was no stopping them. “But not initially and well ye know it.” She leaned against the door and whispered, “I just let myself forget because of yer hateful behavior every day after that.”

  “Hateful?”

  “Aye, ‘twas awful and ye know it.”

  “I know nothing of the sort.” He shook his head and shifted closer. “A lad would have to be around a lass to be considered any which way, let alone hateful.”

  “True enough.” Something occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes. “But ye were never around much after that night, were ye? Nay, ye wanted nothing to do with me. Instead, ye chased after lassies ye had not looked twice at before!”

  “Ye dinnae know who I did, and didnae look at,” he scoffed, just as upset. He shifted even closer. “How could ye when ye only had eyes for my brother, aye?”

  “Nay,” she exclaimed, cursing the word the second it came out.

  “Aye!” Though by no means a punch, his fist landed on the door beside her. He came so close she could smell the torch smoke on his fur. Feel the heat of his large body. She closed her eyes, realizing how horribly wrong this was.

  What were they doing?

  What was this awful repressed anger between them?

  It felt like the years since that dance crumbled down around them. As if all the things they never said to each other were roaring up in this singular moment. But how could that be? For her, it made some sort of sense.

  She had loved him prior to Bróccín.

  So very much.

  But where did his anger come from? And was she truly ready to find out?

  “Aye,” she whispered, then clenched her teeth, and dropped her head, ashamed.

  She wanted to know if what Aunt Brighid said was true.

  If Colmac had cast her aside so that his brother might love her.

  “Aye, what, lass?” He rested his forehead against the door, so close that if she shifted forward a mere fraction, their bodies would touch.

  She turned her head, putting them nearly cheek to cheek. His warm breath fanned her neck. A tremor rippled through him while he worked to regain composure. She could touch him. Right here. At this very moment. She could rest her palm against his chest and finally tell him how strongly she had felt back then.

  How she had gone to sleep that very night and dreamt only of him despite what his brother had told her. Because at that point, she had not returned Bróccín's affections. Nay, her heart belonged to Colmac. Only he was in her dreams.

  “Again and again for far too long,” she whispered, her words spilling out once more.

  “What, lass?” He tilted his cheek enough that their lips were inches apart. “What did ye do for far too long?”

  She shifted her head ever-so-slightly, catching the warmth of his breath on her lips. Strangely, it felt like the echoes of a kiss they never shared. Of the one they might have had that first dance if he’d just leaned his head down...had she just tilted her mouth up.

  “Rona?” he said hoarsely, his lips even closer. “What did ye do?”

  “I dreamt.” She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she’d held her tongue. What she spoke of was inappropriate, was it not?

  “Of whom?” The corner of his mouth hovered over the corner of hers. “Tell me.”

  Struggling for breath, she planted her palms against the door and drowned in the feel of him so close. Of the way, his very presence gave her a sense of home and peace that no other could. His scent filled her nostrils. His heat warmed her every pore.

  Dinnae kiss me, she pleaded inwardly even as she prayed he finally would. That they might close the distance for but a moment. Mayhap just the once then he could walk away.

  She would go home.

  He would stay here.

  Life would go on.

  Unfortunately or mayhap, fortunately, the matter was taken out of their hands a moment later.

  Chapter Six

  “’Twas probably for the best Brighid and Aaron came looking,” his mother said softly on a sigh. “’Tis a rare day ye lose control and pound on a door like that.”

  As he did at least once a day, Colmac sat beside Mórag in her chamber and visited. “Aye, Ma, ‘twas poor of me.”

  “’Twas human of ye,” she corrected, leaning her head back. As always, she gazed out the meager window with longing. “I willnae ask what ye were doing on the other side of that door. ‘Tis none of my business.” Her far-too-thin hands remained folded on her lap. “I can only hope ye found what ye were looking for.”

  His mother tended to speak in riddles of late, so she could mean anything. What was certain, however, was that he had found something. Rona. Time and time again. Not just in his memories but in his dreams all these long years, playing that moment she spoke of over and over again.

  They had connected that first dance.

  So much so that he had wasted no time racing to MacLomain Castle the next morn to speak with Laird Adlin. Only he could help him. And he had. He’d helped Colmac and in effect, Bróccín.

  He had given Colmac something that brought both joy and heartache.

  “I did find what I was looking for,” he replied in answer to his mother’s question. He tucked her plaid blanket more securely around her and crouched in front of her. “My friend has returned home and wishes more than anything to be amongst her clan again for Hogmanay. To be where she would have been with Bróccín had we not lost him.”

  “But we did lose him,” she whispered, her unseeing gaze on the window. “Did we not?”

  “Aye, Ma,” he said gently, taking her hand in his. For a moment, he thought she was having one of her lucid moments, but it seemed not. “Bróccín is no longer with us. But Rona is again. She is here.”

  “Is she?” Her brows jerked up then flatten
ed, her gaze still faraway. “Aye, mayhap she is. Did I not see her in the hallway earlier?”

  “Ye did,” he confirmed, hopeful until his ma continued.

  “She couldnae have been much more than fifteen winters when she first found love, aye?” She rubbed her lips together. “I told yer da ‘look at that! Look at the way they gaze at each other. ‘Tis true love that!’” She pressed a hand to heart, her gaze misty. “God knows, I loved yer da, but I am nae sure even our love could rival what we witnessed that eve. And with the whole clan watching!”

  “Aye.” He was glad she remembered the love that blossomed between Rona and Bróccín. “’Twas true love.”

  “Aye,” his mother breathed, her gaze still dewy and faraway before it sharpened on him. “So ye must do as she asked. Ye must see her to MacLomain Castle for Hogmanay so she can be with her beloved.”

  “Ye mean say farewell to her beloved.”

  “I mean what I said.” She cupped his cheek, her gaze so direct and tender it caught him unaware. “Ye will escort her and be the man yer brother expects ye to be, aye?”

  “I will,” he vowed and meant it. Rona deserved to be home for the holidays. She deserved to be where she ultimately wanted to say farewell to his brother.

  Later that day, while preparing to go down to the great hall, he again wondered what he was doing. Despite his mother’s request, he could just as easily have Stuart escort Rona to the MacLomains. Yet every time he mulled it over, he shook his head. He would not let her carry on alone during this difficult time. He would stand by her.

  Not because he desired her but because he owed his brother that.

  He felt ashamed for his behavior earlier in the hallway. He should have never behaved that way. Rona was better than that. He was better than that. Yet to see the anguish in her gaze when she spoke of them dancing. That they had, without doubt, shared an untouchable moment. But what to do with such? It was a moment in time.

  A moment that became obsolete once Bróccín declared his love for her.