Epilogue
AT SEA, NEAR THE LADY ROCK, THE CELEbrATION OF AN ALLIANCE AND MORE…
On a brilliant sun-washed afternoon a little more than two months later, several gaily festooned galleys rode anchor before the glistening black islet known as the Lady Rock.
It was a fine summer’s day, blessed with a calm and sparkling sea, a brisk wind, and a dazzling blue sky with only a few fleecy white clouds.
Two of the galleys flew double banners: the MacLean banner and the MacInnes one. The third ship, a borrowed MacLean galley, bore the MacKinnon insignia.
Each galley held members of all three clans. Something Isolde insisted upon in honor of the day. To recognize the importance of an alliance long sought, almost lost, and now so wondrously accomplished.
It was also a perfect day to celebrate a wedding – the joyous union of clans MacLean and MacInnes.
The marriage of Donall the Bold, proud laird of the great MacLean clan, to his love, Lady Isolde MacInnes, lairdess in her own right.
And to celebrate the precious new life she suspected she carried so sweetly beneath her heart.
All fine reasons to bless the Lady Rock, washing the tidal rock of its dark and dismal past by tossing offerings onto the deceptively well-mannered waves lapping its black and jagged edges.
The celebrants aboard the three galleys performed this honor with dignity, each clansman or friend having received a share of small oatcakes and flowers to toss upon the waves. They’d also been given flasks of fine heather ale to pour upon the rock.
Potent measures to banish the Lady Rock’s evil for once and all time.
Her offerings made, and her flask empty, Isolde leaned against the rail of the MacLean galley and stared across the short distance to where her husband stood talking with Niels and Rory at the rail of the somewhat smaller MacInnes ship.
Lorne and his own new wife, Evelina, were with them, but the couple appeared more caught up in themselves than in the blessing ceremony. As she watched them, Isolde smiled in pleased approval.
Donall caught her gaze then, and flashed her one of his dazzling smiles, lifted a hand to wave. Isolde’s breath hitched. Just looking at him made her heart flutter, did delicious things to her belly.
A great contentment filled her, swelling her heart with enough love to last a lifetime and beyond. She could hardly wait until the galleys returned to shore, until the wedding feast drew to an end.
She only wanted to slip away with her husband. Alone at last, the two of them able to enjoy all the tantalizing things he’d vowed they’d do to make their wedding night unforgettable.
Gripping the rail, she breathed in the brisk sea air, indulging her imagination, until a well-loved bark and an equally familiar cackle broke her reverie.
She whirled around to see Devorgilla coming toward her across the galley’s gently rocking deck. Bodo ran in circles around her. Not bothered by the slight tossing of the sea. Bodo was much more interested in the twisted length of brown cloth clasped between his crooked teeth.
Her husband’s shirt.
The tunic he’d made into a toy for Bodo.
One of the many things he’d done that should have alerted her to his good character early on, had her doubting heart not stood in the way.
“Your wee dog is a wise one.” Devorgilla joined her at the rail. “He knew well before you,” she added, watching Bodo play with the shirt-toy.
“Aye, he knew.” Devorgilla wagged a crooked finger.
“Knew what?” Isolde looked at the tiny, black-clad woman. “What did Bodo know?”
Devorgilla cackled. “Ach, just what I knew all along. That the MacLean was your one true love.”
Isolde blinked. “The man you saw in the cauldron’s steam?”
The crone beamed. “That be the way of it.”
Turning aside, Devorgilla stared across the waves to where Donall watched them from the other galley.
Isolde frowned. “If you knew, why did you give me an anti-attraction potion? Or a love potion, whatever the brew was?”
“I gave you neither,” Devorgilla said, her ancient gaze still on the other galley.
“Neither?”
Devorgilla sighed. A soft, sweet sigh that - for a moment - could have been made by a much younger woman.
“Would such a braw man watch me with that kind of fire in his eyes, and were I a few years younger, I’d scramble over this rail and swim to his bonnie side.”
Isolde started. “How can you tell he’s looking this way? Surely you cannot see that far?”
“Ah, lass, but I can.” Devorgilla peered up at her and the light in her once-clouded eyes couldn’t be denied. “I’ve been experimenting with a potion to cure blindness.”
“To cure blindness?”
“Aye. A wonder brew that works against all manner of blindness.” The crone nodded, clearly proud. “’Tis the same potion I gave you.”
Isolde blinked. “The same one you gave me?”
“Indeed.” Devorgilla cast another glance at the other galley. “I once told you, we are oft given not what we ask for, but what we need.”
A smile began to curve Isolde’s lips as she understood. “And what did I need?”
“A cure.” Devorgilla’s newly clear eyes danced with mischief. “A cure against blindness of the heart.”
Read on for a look at Book Two
in the Highland Knights series
Master of the Highlands