Caitlin’s hand gradually went slack.
Grant made a cross over her chest and spoke softly. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…”
Though he finished the prayer, Cassie’s attention was soon ensnared by something far beyond her comprehension. The glow around them grew brighter and something shifted. Changed.
“I’ve been waiting for you, my beautiful granddaughter.”
Cassie’s mouth dropped when she looked over her shoulder. Ethereal but clearly visible, an elderly woman with twinkling blue eyes and a cane was smiling. An old man stood beside her, a wide, mischievous grin on his face.
“Gram? Adlin?”
Her head whipped around and she leaned back as a younger version of Caitlin stood. Ethereal as well, she stepped away from the woman lying at her feet. Her eyes swept between Ferchar and Logan, words a whisper. “I love you both so much." While there was incredible sadness, there was also peace in her eyes. "I will see you again someday.”
Neither had a chance to respond before she drifted away from her body. When Cassie turned again, the couple waiting was no longer old but young. Adlin nodded at everyone in greeting but said nothing.
His sole focus now was Caitlin’s…ghost.
“Come, lass.” Adlin took Caitlin’s hand as the woman who could only be his one true love, Mildred took her other. “We’ve missed you.”
After that, their words were muffled and the bright light faded along with the apparitions. Ferchar wrapped his arms around Caitlin’s shoulders, burying his face in her neck, body wracked by silent sobs. Logan’s body was just as tense as before, eyes unseeing and lost as he stared at his mother’s prone body.
Sickened with sadness, Cassie did not know what else to do but wrap her arms around him. For several long moments, he didn’t respond. He was nothing but rock, unbending and shell-shocked.
Then, though it might have been her imagination, she felt a push against her mind. It was a flailing of the subconscious, the unconscious, the living soul trying to comprehend the departure of a soul in transition…to understand death. It almost felt like a repressed thought, much like her denying for so long that she would eventually go blind. Panicky, flittering, she tried to focus on it, calm it, to help it embrace the inevitable.
Only when Logan jerked, blindly wrapped his arms around her and yanked her against him did she realize that the thought had been his. Holding on tight she said nothing but kept thinking calming thoughts. Anything to ground him. Anything to help him not fight but embrace his intense grief. Because pain like this, a pain she readily felt through him, was crippling, life-altering.
Cassie had no idea how long she held him, no idea of anything save the heavy weight of his strong arms around her. His mind was adrift in shock, separated from itself.
Logan's memories became hers.
His mother when she was young rocking him on the swing hanging from the oak in front of the Colonial in New Hampshire. The smell of petunia’s wafting on the wind. Then he was maybe eight or nine and she was scowling as Ferchar taught him how to swing a blade in the courtyard of the MacLomain castle. Then it wasn’t his father but his mother standing behind him when he looked to be in his pre-teens. She was showing him how to shoot a bow and arrow. They were so happy, her laughing as he shot the first arrow straight up into the air. More and more memories washed over her and his grief became so very much hers, as if she was soaking it up and giving him some relief.
Tears poured down her cheeks as she became immersed in his pain.
Only the feel of a warm, firm hand in hers started to pull her back from wherever Logan had taken them. Bleary eyed, her vision swam as she tried to focus. When at last she could somewhat see, she realized that Ferchar held her hand and that Caitlin’s body was no longer there. She was tucked on Logan’s lap, sitting on a rock, his worried eyes on her. Dim light dulled the stars. It was already pre-dawn.
Cassie shook her head, eyes flickering between them, confused. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Are you okay?”
“Aye,” Logan murmured, brushing his thumb over her cheek, voice thick with emotion. “Ye shared my pain lass…ye eased it so verra much. How are ye?”
Her eyes felt dry and her chest tight, but the world was a brighter place with Logan no longer in the stupor he had been in before. “I’m good…I think.”
“We waited for you to awaken before we said goodbye,” Ferchar said softly. He squeezed her hand. “Caitlin would have wanted it. After all, she gave you her ring.”
Grant was there, as were Logan’s cousins and every last MacLomain warrior. Their stoic and proud faces were on the shore as Ferchar nodded and a small, makeshift boat was pushed into the water.
“‘Twas the magic of our Viking ancestors that allowed her to merge with the horse,” Logan murmured. “And ‘tis a Viking warrior’s burial she will have.”
“I must stand.” He looked at her, eyes far calmer and more accepting than they had been the night before. “Do me the honor of sitting with my Da?”
She nodded, speechless.
Logan set her down then eyed his bow for a long moment before he lifted it. Cassie pressed her lips together when she realized it was the one she had seen in his memory. The one Caitlin first taught him to shoot with.
“Here, lad, she’d want you to wear this,” Ferchar said, holding out a black glove.
Eyes moist, Logan nodded as he took it, words fond. “She couldnae let go of some parts of the twenty-first century, aye?”
“Och, she worried over yer soft hands,” Ferchar said, brogue thickening with his emotions.
Chuckle low and forced, Logan slid on the glove. Bare-chested, hair tied back, plaid low on his waist, he took a few steps, turned to the river and lifted his wooden bow.
Ferchar squeezed her hand as the horizon almost seemed to honor the moment. Wind driven, black-bellied clouds somersaulted across the sky, warring with the sun as it crested. A wicked explosion of violent purple and rash blue fought against a splash of deep orangey yellow. All the while, Logan held his bow and arrow, cocked and ready as he eyed the water…as he eyed his mother floating away. His pain was hers and she felt the soul-deep tremble of his fear of hurting Caitlin, his fear of saying goodbye.
“We only let her go for now, son,” Ferchar said. “‘Tis not her soul but a shell ye see out there.”
A long moment stretched and a slight shudder rippled through Logan before he whispered, “Aye, Da.”
Ferchar, head held high, proud, murmured, “My truest love, my wife, forever ye be, might the heart of my fire now set ye free. Meum amorem collimant, uxori aeternum ye be, cerneres cor domini mei ignis ite solutae iam sollicitas.”
The end of Logan’s arrow ignited with fire and his eyes met Ferchar’s. Their heartbroken but strong gazes held before Ferchar finally gave a firm nod. “Let her go.”
Logan turned, aimed, whispered how much he loved his mother and released the arrow. His cousins, who had been edging closer, now formed a supportive wall behind him as the arrow met its mark. The wind caught the flame and within seconds fire engulfed the raft.
Arms limp, eyes unwavering, the bow fell from Logan’s hand as he silently watched. Niall put a firm hand on his right shoulder, Darach on his left. Rònan and Machara’s hands landed beside the others as they stood close. The moment was intense, one made of tears and barely inhaled breaths, one made of family letting go of family.
“Farewell, my love,” Ferchar whispered, never releasing Cassie’s hand as his eyes stayed locked on the flames. “I will see ye again someday.”
Wanting to go to Logan but understanding he needed his cousins right now, she remained silent and watched the burning boat as it drifted.
“Aye, but then my lass had a plan all along,” Ferchar murmured, awe and love in his voice.
Cassie’s eyes turned to him, confused.
Ferchar nodded at her ring. “It had always been hers. A symbol of our love.” His eyes met Cassie’s. “Now ‘tis yours, lass.”
Her eyes dropped to the Claddagh ring. The stone nestled between the hands was no longer clear but pale blue with tiny flecks of gold.
A sapphire.
The exact color of Logan’s eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
THOUGH HIS GRIEF had lessened some because of what Cassie had done for him, his heart lifted when he turned and saw the ring. Nodding his thanks to his cousins for their support, he strode over and dropped to his knees in front of her. He had never seen a more welcoming sight than the sapphire. Eyes never leaving hers, he kissed the ring then pulled her into his arms. “Thank God.”
Logan wasn’t kidding himself. He knew this didn’t mean she would stay with him, but it did mean that there was a man meant for her. That he was meant for her.
Not tentative in the least, her arms wrapped around him and she pressed her cheek against his chest, whispering, “Again, I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss.”
A loss that she had so selflessly shared with him. Cassie might not know how she managed it, but he did. She loved him. Simple as that. Had her feelings not run so deep she never would have been able to take on so many of his memories. So much heartache. Her mind, her very soul, had soaked up so much of his grief that he could love his mother and say goodbye without the shock and emotional blindness that such a loss could cause. She offered him sight past a pain that could have kept him in self-induced darkness for a very long time.
Logan held her for several moments wishing they could stay that way forever but knew that there was revenge to be had. On Cullen Stewart. Because as he had learned from his Da and Grant while Cassie was in her healing haze, his mother had sacrificed herself. Connected to the MacLomains via her ring, she was able to utilize the magic of their Viking ancestry. A magic that allowed a wizard, or witch in this case, to merge with a horse and in turn eventually be resurrected.
But not this time.
The evil she had been thrust into was far too powerful.
Yet, as Ferchar sadly shared, his mother had gone into this with her eyes wide open. Apparently, without his father’s knowledge, she had willingly put herself into the death slumber at the Hamilton castle, merging with Athdara. That's why her ring ended up on Cassie's finger. His mother had somehow made sure the ring found its way to Logan's one true love. When Ferchar saw the ring on Cassie’s finger, he sought out Caitlin. Then when her body eventually vanished from the Hamilton’s, he came here.
What truly broke Logan’s heart was that his mother had to know she would eventually die. Why else would she ensure the ring ended up on Cassie’s finger never to return to hers? This, naturally, meant that she knew Robert would soon be taken and what her role in saving him would be. And as Grant soon shared, it had been Caitlin’s magic that helped the Hamilton cast the binding spell that kept Cullen from getting too far. He suspected that’s why the horse’s name was Athdara to begin with.
It was the location that his mother would meet her end.
Grant met his eyes as Logan and Cassie stood. “I was wrong, lad. There can be no doubt now that not all of the rings were meant for those born of the Next Generation. Only the gods know why but we willnae question it, aye?”
“Nay, never,” Logan agreed.
Grant nodded and redirected the conversation. “We willnae stay on here much longer. There is vengeance to be had and a king to be saved.”
Logan nodded and cupped Cassie’s cheeks. “How do you feel? Strong enough to continue the journey?”
“You better believe it,” she said, a determined look in her eyes.
God, he was so impressed with this woman. He might lust after her something fierce, but he knew his attraction had as much to do with unequivocal admiration. Without question, she would make a perfect Lady of MacLomain castle.
And damn would he be proud to call her his wife.
Logan turned to his men. “As many of ye already know, this ford is a place of great power. A place that can be harnessed by those of us with magic. Like many across Scotland, 'tis a portal to another location in our country. This time, we will use it to travel to the Mother Oak.”
He connected eyes with as many men as possible. “There is no way to know what will greet us when we travel there, but I can tell ye this with certainty, 'twill be extremely dangerous. Because 'tis so incredibly unpredictable and could verra well mean certain death, I am giving any who wish to remain here the option.”
There was a moment of hesitation before men shook their heads and cried out.
“We go where ye go, m’laird!”
“We will avenge yer Ma!”
“We will avenge the poor souls lost in the MacLauchlin village!”
Logan nodded. Proud. He was about to respond when several warriors crested the hill and a mighty roar came from the man leading the way. “Ye’ll go nowhere without me, ye bunch of bloody bastards!”
Clyde MacLauchlin.
His son Deargh and his daughter’s husband, Baird Stewart were with him.
Cassie released a small chuckle, undoubtedly amused by the gigantic chieftain’s wild appearance. Skinny braids were tangled in his unkempt hair and his tunic didn’t quite contain his belly.
Logan shook his head and clasped arms, hand to elbow, when Clyde reached him. “Ye should be at your castle, m’laird.”
“Och, nay. Not when there’s battling to be done and more revenge to be had. I owe ye, my friend.” Clyde had a devilish twinkle in his eyes as he rubbed his reddened nose. As usual, there was the faintest whiff of whisky on his breath. “Besides, I slaughtered those whoreson cowards ye left at my castle and now the MacLomain warriors ye so kindly sent are protecting my people and helping to rebuild.”
Logan knew there would be no talking him out of it so he grinned. “Have it yer way then.”
Clyde leaned close, a co-conspirator gleam in his eyes. “So will ye be telling me who yer settin’ to save?”
“Nay and ‘tis truly a dangerous quest. Are ye sure yer up for it?”
“Up?” Clyde huffed, winking at Cassie. “There’s never been a lass or a battle that I havnae been up for.”
Naturally, Niall and Rònan chuckled.
Logan nodded at Baird, acknowledging that the man had stayed true to his word. “How fares Aline?”
“Down half an arm but she will keep her life,” Baird said. “Never was there a stronger lass.”
“‘Tis good news this.” Logan clasped his shoulder. “Ye both can stay on at the MacLomain castle as long as ye need to.”
“Thank ye, m’laird.” Baird nodded, chin firm as he warred with emotions. “I couldnae be prouder to fight for ye this day.”
Logan nodded and his attention turned to Clyde when the chieftain’s eyes drifted to the burning boat sinking into the water downstream. “I dinnae like the looks of that,” he said softly before his gaze returned to Logan in question.
Unable to push the words past his lips, he was grateful when his Da joined them and shook Clyde’s hand. “It has been too long, my old friend. I cannae tell ye how sorry I am about the pain inflicted upon yer clan.” Ferchar’s eyes went to the boat, his gaze sad but strong. “‘Tis my wife, Caitlin we say farewell to.”
“Nay,” Clyde whispered. His lips slashed down and deep grooves formed between his eyes. “I’m so verra sorry to ye both. Never was there a finer lass.”
Ferchar and Logan only nodded.
A silent moment stretched before Clyde unsheathed a dagger and gripped it like he was ready to kill someone. “Something tells me saying farewell to such a bonnie lass is all the more reason to skewer the bloody swines we’re after, aye?”
Ferchar’s eyes narrowed. “Ye couldnae be more right about that, lad.”
Though he disliked putting the MacLauchlin Laird in danger, very few were as savage in battle as Clyde. With arms the size of tree trunks, he could down three men with one mighty swipe.
Grant came alongside. “‘Tis nearly time.”
Logan nodded and turned to his men. “Once those of us with magic open the portal betwixt these trees, ‘twill be a jarring transition from here to there. Have yer weapons at the ready and yer eyes open. Dinnae fret if the sun has moved across the sky in an instant as traveling this way can sometimes steal a few hours from ye.” His gaze swept over them, again pausing on as many as possible. “I thank ye for fighting alongside me. ‘Tis always an honor. Now go into this battle with nothing but vengeance in yer heart, aye?”
“Aye!” they cheered.
Logan thrust up his blade and roared the MacLomain’s war cry, “Ne Parcus nec Spernas!”
“Ne Parcus nec Spernas!” everyone roared.
He just prayed it would be a battle of weapons and not a slaughter by magic.
“Fortis et Fidus!” Clyde and his men roared the MacLauchlin’s war cry.
His cousins nodded at Logan, battle lust already in their eyes as he turned his attention back to Grant and his Da. He had never seen the Hamilton look so serious.
“Ye, yer Da and I will stay close to Cassie,” Grant said. “She and the ring must be protected at all costs.” His eyes went to Machara, Rònan and Niall before landing on Darach. “Ye four go after the Bruce. Be prepared for anything and protect one another well.”
“Aye,” they said with determined, eager, looks on their faces.
Logan squeezed Cassie’s hand and met her eyes one final time. “Keep that dagger at the ready, lass.” His voice lowered. “I willnae leave your side.”
“You will if you need to,” she said softly, strength in her eyes. “Robert comes first.”
While his head knew she was right, his heart did not agree in the least. Yet he kept his thoughts from his face and nodded. “Aye, lass.”
When Grant and Ferchar started chanting, he and his cousins joined in. This was exceedingly dangerous considering someone so powerful had recently used this portal, but there was no other choice. The Mother Oak was too far away and they didn’t have time.
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