Page 6 of Highland Yule
Chapter Two
“Who is it from?” Colmacwas not only alarmed by the letter’s mysterious appearance—more specifically that someone had snuck in here without him being aware—but by the tears in Rona’s eyes. Though tempted to close the distance, he had long trained himself not to. “Tell me, lass.”
Rona’s gaze dropped to the letter, lingered then slowly rose to him again. It had been nearly seven winters since last he saw her, and she still stopped his poor heart with her beauty. Rich auburn hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, and her soulful eyes were the color of amber sparkling in the sun. With delicate features and soft ivory skin that seemed aglow, her loveliness was unparalleled.
“’Tis from Bróccín.” Her slightly arched brows drew together. “But surely ye knew that.” She sat forward, insistent. “Surely, ye left this for me to find.”
Colmac shook his head and ended up closing the distance. He gestured at the letter. “Might I see it?”
“Aye.” She handed it over.
He read it and shook his head again. It was most certainly his brother’s handwriting. But when had he written such? And what, as the letter indicated, did he want to show her again?
“I will speak with ma.” Troubled, he handed it back to her. “Mayhap she kens how it got here.”
She must. There was no other explanation.
“Please do.” Rona rolled the scroll carefully and retied it. “Mayhap ye recognize the ribbon?”
“Nay.” He frowned, perplexed. “I havenae seen it before.”
“’Tis lovely,” she whispered, fingering it. She set aside the scroll and met his eyes.
Just like that, he was frozen in time again. Whisked back to the day his brother spoke about. The day they first met. After all, he had been there too.
“Do ye remember it then?” he said. “The day ye first met us?”
“Aye.” A soft smile curled her mouth. “I was but a bairn and ye saved me from a small boar. Bróccín lobbed it with many a rock but ‘twas ye that downed the foul beastie with several arrows.”
He remembered it well. She had been eleven winters old exploring the backside of the castle and came across the animal. Fortunately for her, he and Bróccín had been following the pretty lass visiting from MacLomain Castle. One way or another, they never stopped following her over the years until the day his brother told him he had fallen in love with her.
“I was thankful then for yer valor,” she went on. “And I am thankful now.” Her eyes never left his. “Thank ye for saving me when we were attacked.” She touched the back of her head, glanced at the window then looked at him again. “However long ago that was.”
“’Twas over a day ago.” He shook his head. “’Tis a verra dangerous time to be traveling this way with so few men.”
Something he had already spoken with Aaron about at length. Yet the man was as stubborn as Rona, determined to see her home for Hogmanay. In memory of the vows she would have taken with Bróccín, she wished to attend MacLomain Castle’s yearly ritual of handfasting then marrying before midnight. Though typically handfasting meant being betrothed for a year and a day, the MacLomains had made it a more official exchange of vows years ago.
