Page 83 of Her Highland Prophecy
He hugged Diana close to him, a move that provided more comfort than he was willing to admit. She turned to look at him and placed her hand behind his neck rubbing gently. No words were necessary as he slipped into her, loving her slowly as the first rays of the sun lightened the room around them.
Neither of them broke the silence as he left the bed to get dressed. She watched him as he pulled on his shirt, his kilt, his sporran, methodically arming himself against the day ahead. The bandages that she had put on him were miraculously still holding so he didn’t have to wrap them again. He found his dirk and thrust it into his belt, and then turned to look at her.
She was sitting up in the bed now, her blonde hair a halo around her head from the pillows and his hands. Her skin was littered with small bites and bruises from their lovemaking and he never wanted to remember her in any other way.
He walked forward gathering her in his arms for one last kiss. It was a desperate thing, full of need. He cupped her cheeks as he pulled back, stealing one last kiss off her perfect lips before turning around and striding out of the room, the door closing behind him with a dull thunk.
They had already said their farewells over and over in a hundred ways since the previous night but saying the words to her was unthinkable.
He was on the back of Taranis and riding out toward Sutherford Castle a quarter of an hour later. He urged his friend into a short gallop in the open valley beyond the fair, gaining distance from the inn where he had left his heart.
He didn’t stop beyond allowing Taranis to rest and have a drink of water. As the distance between him and the Castle shrunk he turned his thoughts to what he might find when he arrived. The unknown was frustrating to him. He couldn’t plan for any eventuality if he didn’t know the other players in the game.
He resolved to wait and see how everyone reacted to his return. The assassin was supposed to have killed him so he was certain that they would be shocked to see him.
It was nearly midnight, the moon shining high in the sky, when he reached the Castle and he debated going in before deciding that it would be better not to show his hand so quickly. He found a spot where he could sleep and Taranis would not be seen by the guards doing their rounds in the morning.
The ground was uncomfortable, and he desperately missed Diana’s presence, but he was so exhausted from the lack of sleep the previous night and the day-long ride that his eyes closed quickly and he fell into a deep slumber.
He woke at dawn, the light of the sun playing on his eyelids and made his way into the Castle.
Startled faces greeted him, along with loud exclamations by everyone he encountered.
“It’s Gordain! He isnae dead!”
“Gordain’s home!’
He grimaced but did not speak with them. If they had thought he was dead so soon after his father’s passing, his sisters would be absolutely devastated. He made his way directly to their chambers, taking care to be seen as little as possible, even though he was certain that the keep was already buzzing with his arrival. It was best if he were difficult to find.
He checked Mabel’s room and then Joan’s, finding both of them empty and then went to the chamber where Eleanor usually stayed, hoping that they were in there.
Thankfully he was right. Eleanor opened the door when he knocked, her face tear-stained and her eyes red. She gasped as soon as she saw him.
“Gordain!” she exclaimed and threw her body at him. He bent down and returned her hug, his face landing on her shoulder. Behind her, he could see the twins looking as if someone had poleaxed them. Mabel recovered first, joining the hug with a wordless cry of joy, with Joan not far behind her.
The siblings stayed still, unwilling to break the hug until Gordain heard a noise from down the hall and reluctantly pushed them away, back into Eleanor’s room.
“Where’s Mairi?” he asked, not seeing the little girl in her mother’s room.
“Isobeail has both the bairns,” she replied. “Gordain, what is going on? A rider brought us the news that ye had been killed on the road to Ballachulish.”
She shaped her statement like a question, curiosity written across all of their faces.
“First it was Da, and then ye as well—”
Gordain nodded. “I kent it already, Sister. They sent someone to kill me at the fair. But tell me,a phiuthar, what has been going on here? If ye thought I was dead, then someone must have taken over the Laird’s position.”
He took it as a bad sign that all three women scowled heavily at his words.
“Jaimie,” Eleanor spat after a moment. “But he hasnae arrived yet. He sent Bhaltair a letter that he will arrive in a few days. He isnae even planning to be here for the funeral and he wants to take Faither’s place.”
“Please tell me ye will nae allow it, Gordain,” Joan pleaded. He smiled at her. She was the quieter of the three, but he had always had a soft spot for quiet little Joanie.
“Aye, Lass. Dinna fash. I’ll take care of everything now that I am here. Who is making arrangements for the funeral?”
“Bhaltair,” Mabel answered. “He has been most helpful with the funeral and taking care of the Clan until Jaimie arrives.”
There was a slight blush on the young woman’s face that under other circumstances would have made him snicker and tease her, but he didn’t have the heart today.
