Chapter Two
Roisin MacDonald clutched the bedcovers and gazed up at the ceiling in her bedchamber, her heart pounding in her chest. Dawn had scarcely broken, and pale shards of light glowed through the cracks in the window shutters as sweet Ecne, her beloved terrier, pushed his wet nose against her chin in a gesture of comfort.
Slowly, she loosened her grip on the covers and buried her fingers in his fur.
’Twas just a dream.
Like the other dreams that had plagued her since the day her elder sister, Freyja, had wed Alasdair Campbell and left the isle.
Strange, fragmented dreams, of unfamiliar landscapes and shifting perspectives, and threaded throughout, a pervading dread that something dark lurked just beyond the far horizon.
She glanced beside her, where her maid, Grear, still slept soundly. Thank goodness her troubled dreams hadn’t disturbed her as they sometimes did. Grear thought she should confide in her grandmother, but there was a good reason why she didn’t want to.
It was because in her dreams she’d left her beloved Sgur Castle for the Highlands. And as the last remaining daughter, that was something she could never do.
When Freyja had wed Alasdair just over a year ago, her sister had been concerned that the burden of their legacy would now fall squarely upon Roisin’s shoulders.
She’d assured Freyja all was well, that she was prepared for the responsibility of remaining on Eigg to ensure the decree of their ancient foremother was fulfilled.
The bloodline of the Isle must prevail beyond quietus.
The Deep Knowing was a sacred edict from their Pict queen foremother and had been handed down from mother to daughter for nine hundred years. Both Freyja and their eldest sister, Isolde, believed it meant if they left the isle, their bloodline would die.
Yet both of them had left, to be with the men they loved.
Stealthily, Roisin eased out of the bed so as not to wake Grear, and hastily washed before the banked fire.
Neither of her sisters had made the decision to leave Eigg easily.
All of their lives, they had been taught that their destiny was to protect their beloved isle and that their futures were irrevocably entwined with the land of their birth.
Their formidable Pict queen ancestor, who had commanded a fearsome band of women warriors to defend Eigg against her enemies, had entrusted the edict to her own daughter and so the legacy had been passed down through the ages.
But only through the female line, from mother to daughter. And in all that time, only one daughter of Sgur had been born in each generation.
Until now.
And so, despite their misgivings about going against the Deep Knowing, ultimately Isolde and Freyja had been free to leave Sgur because Roisin could continue the legacy by remaining on the isle and, in time, passing the history of their fierce Pict queen ancestor down to her own daughter.
Except the dark truth was, she’d never believed in the Deep Knowing the way her sisters, her grandmother, and her own mother had.
’Twas as unthinkable as blasphemy to ever breathe such a belief aloud, and she’d keep her secret until her dying breath. But just because she didn’t believe in the same way as her sisters and foremothers, it didn’t mean she wanted to leave Sgur Castle.
She smothered a sigh as she wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and left the bedchamber, Ecne at her heels.
Before her sisters had married, her own questioning of the Deep Knowing hadn’t worried her.
After all, it changed nothing since the three of them were destined to remain on the Isle of Eigg forever.
And as the youngest sister, no one had ever asked her opinion on it, anyway.
But now she couldn’t stop fretting about it, and it made no sense. It wasn’t as though, given the choice, she’d follow her sisters to the Highlands.
As she went down the stairs and into the great hall, her mind lingered on that notion and no matter how hard she tried to stop it, the image of Hugh Campbell and his incomparable blue eyes filled her thoughts.
Why did he haunt her so? It had been eighteen months since she’d last seen him, when he had all but promised to return. She should’ve known he was only spinning her a pretty line but how truly she’d believed him.
How dearly she still wished to believe him. He’d been so easy to talk to, and she hadn’t wanted to disappear into a nearby tapestry the way she usually did when confronted by a strange man.
She’d even shown him some of her illuminated manuscripts and he’d been gratifyingly impressed. His manners were impeccable, his conversation delightful, and when his fingers brushed hers, fire forged by the fae themselves had blazed through her.
But neither Isolde nor Freyja had seen or heard any news about him, and it appeared he had vanished as completely as mountain mist on a fine summer’s morn.
If only she could forget about him as easily as he, quite obviously, had forgotten about her. And yet the sad truth remained. If Hugh Campbell arrived on Eigg this day and asked for her hand, she’d gladly accept.
Shaking her head at her folly, she left the castle and took the path across the bracken moorlands to the beach, as Ecne followed his nose into every nook and cranny he could find.
The sound of the sea lapping onto the sand soothed her and she breathed in deep, the salty air a familiar balm to her soul.
And then she saw her grandmother walking along the shore towards her.
What was Amma doing out so early? She usually liked to see to the affairs of the castle first thing, and a flicker of unease stirred. Was something amiss?
She hurried over to her and Amma took her hand. She seemed perfectly fine and smiled, and Roisin’s fears faded.
“Ye’re up early this morn,” Amma said, before she glanced at her serving woman, who immediately took a few steps back, along with Amma’s personal guard, so she and her grandmother could enjoy some privacy. “Are ye all right?”
“I was about to ask the same of ye.” They linked arms and continued along the beach, as Ecne darted into the gently lapping waves beside them.
“I had strange dreams and needed to clear my mind.”
Roisin glanced at her. It was uncanny how often she and her grandmother seemed to experience strange dreams or inexplicable feelings at the same time as each other.
She also knew neither of her sisters had any idea about Amma’s less practical side.
Lady Helga was a force to be reckoned with among the people of the Western Isles, and her reputation would suffer if a whisper emerged that she’d inherited more than Sgur Castle from their formidable foremothers.
They didn’t even discuss it between themselves. It was simply something she’d become aware of over the years and, truth be told, the unspoken understanding was more real to her than their revered Deep Knowing ever had been.
“What did ye dream?” She hoped she sounded casual. And she dearly hoped Amma hadn’t dreamed of Roisin in the Highlands.
Amma sighed and they came to a halt as her grandmother gazed out to sea. The only sounds that filled the air were the call of the gulls and the waves breaking on the beach, but in her mind’s eye all she saw were the unfamiliar mountains and glens that had pervaded her dreams.
Finally, Amma spoke. “Do ye not feel it also, my bairn?” Her voice was hushed and a shiver of apprehension raced along Roisin’s arms. “Of all my girls, ye’re the one I believe inherited the same gift as I. Do ye not dream that ye must travel to the Highlands to discover yer destiny?”
Despite her earlier tangled thoughts, and shock that Amma had finally voiced something she’d always wondered about, her response was instant. “I’ll never leave ye, Amma. Ye must know that.”
Amma patted her hand and gave a sad smile. “Tell me why ye’re on the beach at dawn, without Grear accompanying ye.”
Grear accompanied her everywhere. And to be sure, that was her duty, but it was more than that. She considered her maid her friend and, since both her sisters had left the isle, her only confidante.
It was the reason why Grear now slept beside her in bed, instead of at the foot, where maids usually spent their nights.
But after Freyja had wed, the bed had been too big, too lonely, and honestly, ’twas foolish for Grear not to share the comfort of pillows and covers, rather than wrapping herself in a sheepskin to stave off the chill.
Yet this morning she’d needed to be alone. And Amma wanted to know why. Maybe Grear had been right, and she should’ve confided in her grandmother weeks ago.
“My nights have been restless since Freyja left Sgur. ’Tis as though an invisible thread pulls me to the mainland, and I cannot understand why.”
Except that wasn’t quite the truth. For why else would she dream of the Highlands, other than it was the land of Hugh’s birth?
But although she might harbor the foolish wish that she had a future with Hugh Campbell, she wasn’t reckless enough to let a misguided hope rule her life. Her sisters were convinced her head resided in the clouds, but she would never leave the safety of Sgur to chase an illusory fantasy.
Amma sighed. “I wish I could enlighten ye, Roisin, but I’ve no wisdom to share with ye about this. I see no man in yer future, the way I could when I had visions of Freyja meeting Alasdair Campbell before he arrived on the Small Isles. All I know is the Highlands awaits ye.”
“Ye saw Alasdair in a vision?” How had she not been aware of that? Did Freyja know? Somehow, she doubted it. Her sister was the most practical person ever and didn’t believe in anything she couldn’t see or prove for herself.
“No, lass. I only knew she would meet a Highlander and that she would leave Sgur. Yet when I first saw him, I knew he was the one.”
Another shiver raced through her. Although last summer she’d not had any inkling that Freyja would soon meet her soulmate, once Alasdair had arrived on the Small Isles, she’d instantly noticed a difference in her sister.
When Freyja had talked of him, there had been warmth in her voice and a smile on her lips, and when Alasdair was near, her sister fairly glowed.
She’d thought it was obvious to anyone with a grain of sense that Alasdair was Freyja’s destiny. But maybe the only reason she’d noticed was because of this strange gift she shared with Amma.
It was most disconcerting.
Before she could think better of it, her tongue ran away with her reason. “Did ye not sense anything about Hugh Campbell?”
Ah, curses. She hadn’t even mentioned his name to Grear in the year since Freyja had left, but it wasn’t as though Amma was unaware of how she’d fallen for him. Amma saw everything.
Concern wreathed her grandmother’s face, which was all the answer Roisin needed. What else had she expected?
“No, my bairn.” Sympathy threaded through each word and mortification slithered through her like a malignant serpent. She really should have kept her mouth shut. “All I know is that the Highlands are in yer immediate future.”
“Aye, well of course they are.” She kept her voice light, in the hope Amma wouldn’t guess the depth of her disappointment.
Her unrequited obsession with Hugh was truly getting a little irksome.
It was time to push his memory into a dark corner of her mind and leave it there.
“We’re visiting Isolde in two months, after all.
Maybe that is all these strange dreams are about. ”
It was possible, after all. She was excited about seeing both her sisters again, and the prospect of welcoming her newborn niece or nephew was frankly thrilling. But if that was the case, why did an undertow of apprehension permeate her every dream?
Surely it wasn’t the danger of childbirth. Freyja would be there, and she was not only a healer of exceptional skill but also an experienced midwife.
Besides, these dreams had started before Isolde had told them of her pregnancy.
“Do ye truly think that?” There was a musing note in Amma’s voice and Roisin heaved a ragged sigh. She could try to fool herself but clearly she couldn’t fool her grandmother.
“I don’t know what else it could be.” Because nothing would induce her to bring Hugh Campbell’s name into the conversation again.
Amma was silent for so long, Roisin half wondered if this uneasy conversation was over. But she should have known better. When Amma turned to her, she recognized the keen gleam in her eyes and knew her grandmother had reached a decision.
But a decision on what, exactly?
“Isolde is safe,” Amma said, and Roisin stared at her, uncomprehending. Before she could ask what her grandmother meant, she continued. “And so is Freyja. I fear these visions will never cease until ye, also, find yer path away from our beloved Sgur.”
Alarm spiked through her. “Are ye saying we’re not safe at Sgur? But how can that be? ’Tis the home of our foremothers. Surely no harm can befall us here.”
Amma shook her head and once again they resumed walking along the beach, heading towards the castle that stood high on the hill and yet still remained in the shadow of An Sgurr, the mighty ridge that defined Eigg and could be seen from the neighboring isles.
“The Deep Knowing has protected the daughters of the isle for almost a thousand years and will not fail us now.”
Roisin held her tongue, and yet her mind asked the question, regardless.
How has the Deep Knowing protected us?
“But this strange compulsion consumes me, Roisin. Ye must leave Eigg and travel to Isolde at Creagdoun before the week is out. I shall meet ye there in two months, as we have already arranged, and only then can ye return home.”
“So I shall return to Sgur, then?” This wasn’t something she’d felt in her dreams, but there was a certain relief in knowing her grandmother had.
“Of course ye must. Whatever reasons the Deep Knowing has for sending the three of ye away, it is certain ye alone must return. For how else will our legacy continue? But first, there is a path ye must find and follow until its end, and that path is not on the Western Isles.”