Page 94 of Bride of the Mad Laird
Both women knew well enough that Lyra, although she was now wed to the laird, did not stand on ceremony and often broke fast with them when Laird Tòrr was absent.
She ate her porridge, her head whirling, filled with thoughts of Davina, now the Lady Davina MacNeil of Barra, wife of the Laird Everard MacNeil, and how much delight she would take in her company when they finally arrived.
Once she’d finished breaking her fast, she took her leave of the two friends and made her way up to the battlements. The sky was pink and gold, a rare morning where the sun rose into a clear sky. As she peered across the blue sea for the umpteenth time, hoping to catch a glimpse of a sail approaching from the west, a brisk sea breeze caught her braid and blew wisps of hair around her face. The coming winter was in the air, yet the gardens in the bailey were still filled with the scent of roses in bloom.
She was gazing absently into the distance when Tòrr appeared beside her. Her heart lifted at the sight of him and when he neared, he took her into his embrace, folding his arms about her and layering her hair with little kisses.
He looked out to sea. “There.” He pointed toward the horizon. “D’ye see that wee speck?”
She narrowed her eyes, straining to see what it was he was drawing her attention to.
Her heart jumped. There they were, two specks in the vast blue sea. She turned to him, “Are they ships?”
He studied them with a well-practiced eye. “Birlinns, I’d say. I think I can make out their sails. If ye can contain yer impatience fer a few more minutes, ye’ll see them plain enough.”
They stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the tiny specks grew larger.
“Before they arrive, I have some good news fer ye, me love,” announced Tòrr, caressing Lyra’s hair.
“And what would that be, husband?” she smiled back at him.
“Ye ken we had tae write yer clan when MacDougall died, to tell them everything had happened very fast and that decisions had to be made before receiving an answer from them tae our first letter?” he said.
“Aye…” Lyra replied, with a hint of anxiety.
“The Council has written back, and fully supports our marriage and alliance. Of course, we ken now, after receiving their original answer, that yer whereabouts were not such a surprise to begin with, as they had received a letter from Maither Una telling them that she had entrusted ye tae me. However, they now wrote that they fully understand that there was nae time to plan a defense and are aware that marrying was the best possible decision fer ye, as the heir. We shall travel tae see them as soon as possible and to make arrangements fer the future of Clan MacInnes.”
“Oh, Tòrr! That is wonderful news!” Squealed Lyra in delight, her happiness knowing no bounds.
As they finally parted from their embrace, it was clear to see the two ships sailing proudly toward them.
“At last!” Lyra could scarcely contain her excitement.
After leaving instructions with Claray for a retinue of servants to join them, Lyra and Tòrr descended the path that would take them down to the noost, where the visiting birlinns would dock.
They passed the houses of the fisherfolk, all their small boats already at sea. As they walked along the strand, Lyra craned her neck hoping to catch a glimpse of Doddie, but he was nowhere to be seen. They arrived, finally, at the place where Tòrr’s birlinns rode at anchor beside the jetty, where the two ships would tie up and their guests would alight.
It was no small thing for Tòrr to be greeting his half-sister and her laird. He’d only seen her once before when she was first married and they’d made the journey to meet with him. Lyra knew he was looking forward to her meeting Davina, as much as he was looking forward to seeing his sweet sister and her husband again.
After what seemed an eternity of Lyra’s jumping from one foot to the other, the birlinns finally came into sight just beyond the noost. Within the space of a few short minutes, they were pulling into the dock.
A gangplank was lifted for the passengers to alight and Lyra’s delighted eyes finally alighted on her friend’s figure, her lovely mane of chestnut curls catching the sun in the dappled light. Catching sight of Lyra, she waved, a smile splitting her face.
As Davina stepped ashore Lyra ran to greet her.
“Ye’re here! I can scarce believe it.” They eagerly hugged for several moments and then clasped hands.
Davina turned to the tall, broad-shouldered man who came up behind her just as Tòrr stepped forward.
“This is me husband, Laird Everard.”
Lyra curtsied deeply. Looking up into the lad’s blue eyes she caught her breath. It was almost impossible to believe that her friend was married and now the Lady of the Isle of Barra.
Everard smiled, bowing from the waist. “I am most happy tae meet ye, Lady Lyra, me new sister-in-law.”
Lyra clapped her hands and turned her delighted gaze to Tòrr who had bent to place a kiss on Davina’s cheek and a solid hand on Everard’s broad shoulder.
“Come,” Lyra said impatiently, “I cannae wait tae hear all yer story.”
