Page 75 of Abducted By the Highlander
“How is married life treating her?” Roisin well remembered Laoise’s late brute of a first husband, back on the Isle of Eigg. But five years ago, after the death of her mother, she’d accepted Freyja’s invitation to move to Dunochty Castle where she’d continued her education in the medical arts under the keen eye of both Freyja and her dear friend, Jane. And six months ago, Laoise had wed Alasdair’s steward.
“Very well, indeed. Did I tell ye her sisters who came over from Eigg for the wedding decided to stay in the Highlands? Laoise had been teaching them all those years on the Isle, and their skills are most admirable.”
“That is good for her. Who needs that fancy royal college in London when they can train under ye and Jane?” Isolde looked at Roisin. “And Grear is arriving tomorrow? It’s been so long since I last saw her.”
“Aye, she’s accompanying Mary and Agnes. They should be here before supper tomorrow.”
She was looking forward to seeing Hugh’s sisters again, who were both wed with wee ones of their own. But most of all she couldn’t wait to see Grear, who had married a trusted confidant of Agnes’s husband four years ago. She and Grear would always share a special bond, not only because they’d known each other since they were bairns, but because of those weeks they’d shared in the camp.
With a clatter of hooves, Hugh and the rest of the men who had gone hunting entered the courtyard and as the bairns and dogs went wild—except for Will, who at ten and a half considered himself far too old for such displays—she and her sisters strolled over to them. Servants hurried over to take the catch to the kitchen, and Hugh enveloped Roisin in a hug that warmed her to the tips of her toes.
Even after ten years, he had the power to steal the breath from her lungs with merely a glance. As they parted, she saw both William and Alasdair with their arms around their wives’ shoulders, and happiness overflowed her heart. How fortunate they had all been to find each other, and even though sometimes the strangeness of how all three of them had ended up leaving Eigg with their soulmates gnawed in the back of her mind, she tried not to worry about it.
Even Amma had confessed, years ago, that she no longer understood what the Deep Knowing had truly meant. Roisin doubted that they ever would. And although she and her sisters all agreed theywould tell their daughters about it, so far she and Isolde hadn’t. It seemed vaguely specious, when the three of them had left the Isle that their foremother had been so determined her descendants should remain on forever.
“Look who I found in the forest, on his way to Balfour.” Hugh stepped back, and Douglas bowed his head at her in greeting.
“Douglas, how wonderful to see ye.” She went to him, and they exchanged a formal hug. For years after she and Hugh had wed, Douglas had kept his distance, and Hugh had struggled with the guilt he harbored for Symon’s death. But after the birth of their own sweet son, the brothers had slowly forged a bridge between each other and now Douglas turned up at odd times during the year, either here or at the manor.
She was always mindful that Balfour would one day go to Douglas, however many times he assured her he did not want it. He had his own castle, although they had never been invited there, but nevertheless, she always kept the hope alive that one day Douglas would throw off the dark shackles of his past and find a woman worthy of him.
They all went inside for supper, and the great hall filled with the happy sound of kin and friends who had known each other forever. Patric, who had left Eigg with Isolde when she had wed William, regaled them with tales of how committed the young village lasses he and Isolde trained in defensive tactics were in honing their skills.
It was something her sister had become passionate about after she had been attacked by Alan MacGregor and so she ensured they could protect themselves against an unwary assault.
Clyde, who had accompanied Freyja from Eigg to Dunochty, was deep in conversation with Amma. He had surprised everyone two years ago by marrying a widow, a gracious gentlewoman, and Clyde was beside himself that, at his advanced time of life, he was to be a father next summer.
After supper they retired to the solar, where a fire burned brightlyin the hearth, and many chairs were scattered around. Roisin settled beside the fire and the bairns sat at her feet, even Will, waiting for her to tell them a fine tale of the mystical fae, perhaps.
She never tired of sharing those fantastical stories, and just as she had wished when she’d entertained the bairns in the camp all those years ago, she had managed to persuade the villagers both here, and at the manor, to allow their bairns to spend a couple of hours a week learning their letters under her guidance.
“Which one do ye want?” She cuddled Innis on her lap as Helga snuggled with Amma, her namesake.
“Our fierce Pict queen ancestor,” shouted Archie. The others cheered in agreement. She laughed and glanced at her sisters who were both shaking their heads.
“Do they never get tired of that one?” Freyja ruffled Archie’s hair.
“It doesn’t matter how many times I share that story with them, they always say no one tells it as well as Auntie Roisin.” Isolde rolled her eyes and sent her sister a smile.
Roisin looked at Hugh, who sat beside her, gently stroking Innis’s hair. “I’m always happy to hear that tale,” he said. “I might not understand what she meant by her edict, but at least I know for sure she wasn’t cursing yer bloodline.”
Even the rest of the men, Clyde and Patric and the faithful warriors who had served Amma for so many years, fell silent, although they had all heard the tale many times.
And so she began the familiar story, the one both Amma and her own mother, Ingrid, had shared with her and her sisters so many times when they’d been young. How the fierce Pict queen and her women warriors had slaughtered the monks who wanted to take her Isle’s history from her, and how she had ended up following the mystical lights on the sea to a future they could only speculate upon.
And as always, she finished the tale the same way she had since the first time Hugh had listened to it, that day in the camp.
“But as long as we remember them and tell their tales, no one truly dies.”
Innis had fallen asleep, and Hugh tenderly lifted her in his arms to take her to bed. He often joined her when she tucked them into their beds and his open devotion to their bairns melted her heart every time. So many men appeared to want little to do with their offspring, and yet both William and Alasdair were as involved as Hugh.
She and her sisters had been lucky indeed in their husbands.
Later, when all the bairns were safely asleep, the servants brought in hot drinks, and they had scarcely settled around the fire when the door burst open and Miles stood there, frost glittering on his thick hat and surcoat. A servant hovered behind, clearly appalled that Miles had stormed into the castle without proper introduction, but Hugh assured him all was well as Freyja ran to Miles and took his hands.
“Great Eir, ’tis good indeed to see ye, Miles, but at this hour? We were not expecting ye for another few days. Is all well with ye?”
Miles pressed Freyja’s hands against his chest, but there was a wild gleam in his eyes as he cast his gaze around them all.
