“Aye,” she agreed. “Thank ye.”
Done with formalities and the sort who preferred to leave the past in the past, Stuart tied back his blonde locks and started on his oatcakes. “’Twas quite the group that set upon ye out in the woodland, Rona. Are ye well?”
“I am.” She nibbled on her food. “Ye were there then?”
“Aye.” He glanced from Colmac to Rona. “But I never got a chance at yer attacker thanks to my good friend here.”
“I heard ye were quite valiant on my behalf, Colmac.” She nodded once. “So I must thank ye once again.”
Valiant was not quite the word he would use. More like savage and ruthless. But he nodded graciously in return and again spoke words that could be misinterpreted. “I would lay down my life for ye, lass.”
Not surprisingly, chatter at the table quieted. Ears perked in their direction. Meanwhile, Rona took a sip or two of whisky and blushed prettily.
“As would we all,” Stuart added, coming to his rescue. It just so happened, he was the only one who knew Colmac’s true feelings. His friend looked at Rona and moved the conversation along. “Ye’ve been with the Sinclairs a long time, aye? Nigh on four winters now?”
“Aye, as ye know I’m of Sinclair blood too so ‘twas only supposed to be a summer or two whilst Bróccín battled,” she said. “Then he visited betwixt the battling, so I stayed on. The countryside was far too perilous for traveling at the time anyway. When he…” She swallowed hard. “When he passed on I wanted to come back but ‘twas still so dangerous…”
Her words might have trailed off, but he knew what she would have said. She had not been ready to face burying Bróccín alongside so many others. Saying goodbye to those she had known well. He did not blame her, either. It had been a truly difficult time.
“Aye, lass, the country’s not been well,” Stuart agreed, clearly trying to alleviate any guilt she might feel. “The Sinclairs are as mighty as the MacLomains so ‘tis good ye remained there.” His brows shot up. “Now that ye’re here, though, will ye be staying on with us for Hogmanay? ‘Twould be so nice to hear yer laughter in this hall again.”
“I…uh…” She glanced at Colmac, both hope and resolve in her eyes. “Though ‘twas my fondest wish to be amongst my clan again for the holiday, I see now ‘twould be unwise to push on.” She glanced at the table where the Sinclairs and her men sat. “My men dinnae deserve to face another battle so soon but deserve a good rest.”
Colmac glanced at the Sinclairs who eyed a few MacLauchlin lasses and agreed that at least some should stay. Mayhap more alliances were on the horizon. Unfortunately, he had little to offer in the way of their dowries, but one never knew what could be worked out.
Yet he did not need to be here to see such relationships take root.
“There is only a short distance where trouble might be afoot betwixt here and the loch,” Colmac said. “Once across the water and on MacLomain land ‘tis much safer.”
“Aye,” Stuart agreed, knowing full well where Colmac's mind was. What he intended to do. “But based on the sky ye’ve only a small window of opportunity betwixt storms. Ye’d need to leave on the morrow at the latest which would put ye at MacLomain Castle just in time for Hogmanay.”
“Aye.” He nodded. “I will get Rona there safely.”
“Och, I couldnae ask such of ye,” she said to Colmac. “Do ye not wish to remain with yer clan for the festivities? And surely, ye dinnae want to leave yer good ma behind?” She shook her head. “Because I cannae see her traveling well.”
Nor would she yet he found himself eager to give Rona her heart’s desire for the holiday. To enable her to be with her kin once again and say goodbye to Bróccín as she’d intended. Help her find closure.
“I have warriors enough to watch over things in my absence,” he said. “And a clan that would prefer to see ye amongst yer kin again if that is yer desire. I will speak with ma, though I cannae see her objecting. She doesnae leave her chambers to join the festivities as is.” His eyes lingered on hers. “We will get ye home for the holiday, aye?”
Only intending to show friendly support, he rested his hand over hers, but the feel of her soft skin caught him unaware and sharp lust coursed through him. He pulled his hand away abruptly, not missing the pink staining her cheeks. Had she felt it too? He knew naught her level of experience with men but assumed her virginal. His brother would have waited until they were married.
The conversation resumed, and everyone spoke of idle things. Happenings at Sinclair Castle, things going on here and what they knew of recent events at MacLomain Castle.
“I heard rumor Tiernan is chieftain now,” Rona said. “That Laird Adlin wished his son to take the reins so he could enjoy his later years with Mistress Mildred.”
“Aye, ‘tis true,” Stuart confirmed. “As far as we know, it has been a good transition, and Tiernan is leading well. He and his brethren stop in on occasion.”
“’Tis good to hear.” Rona nodded. “What of the Hamiltons and MacLeods?”
“We see them occasionally too,” he replied. “All have come at least once to pay their respects for our loss even though they suffered their own.” He shook his head. “’Twas a bad illness indeed.”
“’Twas,” she agreed before they talked of other things.
After they finished eating and everyone enjoyed one another’s company a while longer, Colmac looked to Rona. “Are ye ready then, lass?”
He could tell by the sadness that flashed in her eyes she remained unsure but resolve notched her chin and she nodded. “Aye, ‘tis well past time.”
“Do ye want me to come with ye, lassie?” Brighid looked at Rona with concern. “I surely will.” She glanced at Aaron. “Both yer uncle and I will.”
“Aye,” Aaron said, equally concerned.
“’Tis sweet of ye both but nay.” She glanced from Colmac to them. “’Tis best I say goodbye to him alongside his brother.”
“All right, then, dearest.” Brighid regarded Colmac while he helped Rona into a fur cloak. “Keep a close eye on her, aye? She’s been through a lot as ye well know and—”
“Everyone’s been through a lot.” Rona kissed her aunt on the cheek. “Now enjoy yer time in front of a warm fire.” She grinned between Brighid and Aaron. “With good company.”
Rona surprised Colmac and took his hand, her chin once again notched, her determination evident. “I am ready.”
He understood she took his hand to ground herself. This was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, and he was glad he was here for her. He grabbed a fur cloak, a torch from a wall bracket and led her down the narrow hallway that wound its way to the backside of the castle.
“It seems like yesterday the three of us were running down this verra hall,” she said softly. “Playing and laughing without a care in the world.”
He managed a small smile, remembering well. “We had many good times.”
“The best,” she whispered.
She remained silent until they reached the door leading outside. Before opening it, he put the torch in a bracket, shouldered into his fur cloak then made sure hers was securely tucked around her. All the while, her eyes remained misty, and she pressed her lips together tightly. Something she did as a young lass when rallying herself to face difficulty.
“The wind is biting today,” he murmured, trying his best to ignore her proximity. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. That it was hard at first, but in time, it would become easier.
“’Tis always biting is it not?” she whispered, her gaze on his face. But was she really seeing him? He got the sense she might be speaking of something else.
“Are ye well, lass?” Unable to do anything else, he cupped her cheek. “Ye dinnae seem yerself.”
“Because I am not,” she whispered, leaning into his touch, lost for a fleeting moment before she pulled back abruptly and faced the door with her head held high. “Let us do this then.”
He nodded and opened the door to the sunlit woodland beyond. The cold air smelled of spruce and snow covered evergreens blew in the wind, their needles brushing one another high above. Yet all he could see and hear were memories. How many times had they raced after each other out this door into white drifts? How often had they fallen into the snow laughing before patting it into icy balls they lobbed at each other?
“Watch yer step, Rona.” He escorted her out, his words foggy puffs in the chilly air. “’Tis slick.”
“Dinnae worry about me.” She looked up at the mighty pine she had depicted in her weaving then narrowed in on the stone cross beneath it. “Och, that’s his, aye?”
“Aye, lass.” He took her hand and led her to it.
“I am so sorry.” She shook her head. “I had no idea when I wove the tapestry he would be buried beneath the tree…”
“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 5
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.
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