Page 129 of Highlanders for the Holidays
Playfully, he asked, “and what if my wish comes true and yours does nae?”
“Who says we’ll nae be wishin’ fer the same thing?”
He had no wish prepared. Oh, there were things he longed for, things he prayed to God for on a daily basis, but he hadn’t come to the well with a particular wish in mind.
“I ken what it is yer heart desires, grandson,” she told him with a most serious tone and expression.
“Ye do?”
“Aye,” she nodded. “Ye wish fer a lovin’ wife, children, and peace.”
With a raised brow and pursed lips, he asked, “How do ye ken this?”
She cackled and patted his arm. “Och, laddie, ye’ve been longin’ fer these things since before ye had a beard to shave.”
He hadn’t thought his heart was so transparent.
“’Tis true, is it nae?” she asked.
He took in a deep breath. “Aye, it be true. I pray each day fer a wife and bairns and fer peace fer our clan.”
He’d had a wife once and a bairn. But Maire had died within hours of giving birth to their son. Born far too early, the wee babe they’d named William, after Connor’s father, died the following day. That was more than four years ago. He thought he’d never get over the loss. But now? Now he was chief of Clan MacCallen and it was important—for himself and the clan—that he try again. Besides, he was also a very lonely man.
“Then we shall wish fer the same thing this day, lad,” Bruanna took his hand into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I shall count to three before tossing this into the well and we shall wish together for all that yer heart desires.”
All me heart desires?
Though it went against everything he believed in, Connor MacCallen decided that one little wish could not hurt.
* * *
Braigh had seenthe lass crouched low behind the ancient, crumbling wall. She was hard to miss, with her red hair blazing in the afternoon son. He’d quietly drawn his sword and watched with a careful eye. ’Twas sacred ground his brother and grandmother were on, as well as the lass with the fiery hair. Still, one could not be too careful. The enemy could come in any form.
From atop his horse, with sword ready, he was too far away to hear the conversation taking place between Connor and Bruanna, but close enough he could intervene if necessary.
At the lass’s feet was a woven basket filled with something he could not see. Weapons perhaps? Nay, he doubted it.
The longer he stared, the more he thought he recognized her. Some vague memory from his past began to creep into his mind. But no matter how hard he tried to pull it forth, it escaped him.
Plenty of women in his clan had been blessed with red hair, even his own wife. But this girl’s hair? It blazed red and auburn and brown. Her build was slight and wee. Young she was, mayhap no more than eight and ten. She wore an odd dress, at least as far as he could tell, that looked old and worn. He could just make out patches on the sleeves as well as one large patch on the side of the skirt.
He turned to watch his grandmother and older brother’s annual tradition of tossing something into the well. Though he couldn’t hear them, he was quite sure he knew what they were saying. Connor was undoubtedly holding his tongue, daring not speak his true thoughts as they pertained to the well. His grandminny was more likely than not doing her best to convince him to open his mind and heart to the possibility that this time, it might just work.
Braigh believed in the power of the well, even if his brother didn’t. It was his fervent belief that his wife, Lorna, would never have fallen in love with him were it not for the wish he made here less than a year ago. He’d wished forherin particular, with all that he had, for he had loved her since he first laid eyes on her when he was a lad. And now they were married and expecting their first babe in the spring.
Connor held Bruanna’s hand as she tossed the coin or whatever she was offering up this year into the well. Long moments passed before they stepped away to begin the journey home. Braigh remained behind, watching the fiery-haired lass to make certain she would not pounce the moment his brother and grandminny stepped off the sacred ground.
Time stretched on and the girl made no attempt to move or attack. Feeling certain she was no foe, he tapped the flanks of his horse and left to follow his family home.
* * *
Onnleigh’s heartpounded against her breast as she crouched behind the stone wall. She’d heard the horses coming before she’d seen them. Not knowing who approached, she ducked down and hid. Moments passed before she heard an auld woman’s voice.
She hid for many reasons. Mostly because she was Grueber’s daughter and did not want anyone to accuse her of trying to steal the coins from the well. She knew it couldn’t be done, taking the coins, unless one lowered themselves into the well with a rope. And she only knew that because her da had tried before, unsuccessfully, and moaned about his misfortune for days after.
Still, she didn’t wish to take the chance.
At first, she did not know who it was who had come to make their wish, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. ’Twas Connor MacCallen and his grandminny.
