Chapter Twenty #2
“Nae, that day is now.” Ronan squeezed the old man’s hand, pumping. “If you are so inclined?”
A tear slid down the druid’s cheek. “With the greatest pleasure,” he said, nodding.
“Then so be it.” Ronan stepped back and snatched his discarded plaid off the grass, eager now to be gone.
He had much to explain.
First and foremost, he needed to tell his lady how much he loved her.
He’d only realized when facing Nathair that he’d never yet said the words.
But a short while later when he left his little skiff on the shore of Loch Dubh and began the long ride back to Dare, those
words and any other ones he might have said flew from his mind completely.
He’d but ridden around a steep hill slope before an onion creel blocked his path.
An onion creel dressed with a plaid blanket and a tangle of leather straps.
“By the Rood!” He knuckled his eyes, but the basket remained.
Reining in at once, he swung down from his saddle, his feet not even touching the ground before she stepped from the trees, Buckie trotting along right beside her.
“Gelis!” He strode forward, catching her by the shoulders. “Saints, lass, I told you to stay at Dare. Do you not know the
kind of danger —”
“From a band of ragged, damp-eyed old men?” She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You were magnificent! And I cannot wait to .
. . greet them properly! And the raven!” She beamed at him, taking his breath. “Who would have thought —”
“You saw?” Ronan’s jaw slipped.
“We all saw.” Valdar appeared at her side, shoulders back and chest swelled.
Others quickly joined them; Hugh MacHugh, Hector and the Dragon, and even Anice with two of the youngest kitchen laddies clutching
her hands. On and on they came, stepping out from behind trees or thickets of broom and whin, until Ronan would’ve sworn the
whole of Dare’s household stood before him.
Buckie wagged his tail and barked, not to be ignored.
“Think you we’d let you take on the Holders without us keeping your back?” Valdar plucked Blood Drinker from beneath his belt,
brandishing it boldly. “One sly trick on their part and we’d have been on them in a wink!”
He jammed his hands on his hips, looked round. “Faster even!”
And only then did Ronan notice how well-armed his people were.
Steel glinted and shone everywhere and those unable to swing a sword clutched other weapons. Pitchforks and scythes were in
abundance, and — if his eyes weren’t fooling him — even several long and sharp-ended bone stitching needles tucked beneath
Anice’s belt.
Hugh MacHugh had his trusty meat cleaver and Auld Meg wielded a wicked-looking iron birthing implement, the proper use of
which Ronan didn’t care to imagine.
Ronan blew out a breath, shook his head.
His heart began to thump.
And the awful tightness was spreading through his chest again. This time it not only crept upward to thicken his throat, it
was also stinging his eyes.
Then he remembered three of Valdar’s words.
We all saw.
He cleared his throat, certain of something odd going on.
Something everyone knew but him.
“How could you have seen what happened?” He glanced at Gelis, then his grandfather. “The Tobar Ghorm isn’t visible from the
lochside.”
“So you say?” Torcaill stepped forward and made a great arc with his wand and, for a blink, the Blue Well appeared, its glade
peaceful now, even the cleared bracken and heather returned as it’d been before.
“Some wizards’ powers never fade,” Torcaill added proudly, lowering his staff.
“As Valdar said, we would have come to fight with you,” his lady announced, hooking her arm through his and leaning into him.
“We watched it all, waiting —”
“Am I to believe your wand would have sent everyone flying through the air to the islet?” Ronan turned to Torcaill. “There
has only e’er been one skiff kept at Loch Dubh.”
To his surprise, the druid only tightened his grip on his wand and stared back at him.
Gelis slid a telling glance at his grandfather and laughed.
“You tell him,” she said, looking about to burst.
And so utterly delectable in her merriment that his heart did burst.
“That dog must be hungry,” Valdar declared with a shrewd glance at Buckie. “I have some dried deer meat in a pouch tied to
my saddle bow. I’ll just fetch it now —”
Ronan shot out an arm and caught the back of his plaid as the old man tried to move away. “Buckie can have your entire store
of venison . . . later. I’d hear how you meant to get out to the islet without boats.”
“Ach, botheration! Why not?” Valdar hooked his hands around his belt and glowered round. “What’s the good of a chieftain’s
secrets with the whole o’ the clan now a-knowing them!”
“Secrets?” Ronan lifted a brow.
“Underwater causeways!” His grandfather yelled the word. “A whole maze of ’em zig-zagging just below the water’s surface and
leading from every side o’ Loch Dubh out to the islet. I discovered them when I was a laddie and my own skiff ran aground
on one.”
Ronan glanced at the loch. “For the pilgrims of old,” he said, guessing the reason. “They used them to reach the sacred well
and you” — he slid an arm around Gelis, drawing her close — “meant to use them to rush to my aid.”
“That was our plan, aye.” Valdar’s chin came up. “Had I known the outcome, I’d ne’er have revealed —”
Ronan cut him off. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
The old man’s eyes lighted. “Ach,” he blustered, taking a sudden interest in his fingernails, “just that what I’ve been meaning
to say to you for a good long while now.”
“And that is?”
Valdar slid a look at Gelis. “Only that I told you so. That lassie is what you needed, just!”
“And I couldn’t agree more.” Ronan took her face in his hands and kissed her.
“But he’s wrong about one thing,” he breathed against her ear before releasing her. “I not only need you, I love you and will for all our days.”
“Oh, Ronan!” Gelis flung her arms around his neck, clinging tight. “I love you, too,” she cried, lifting her voice above the
cheers, barks, and shouts rising around them. “We will always love each other. Into forever and beyond!”
And as soon as the words were spoken, a great dark form circling high above them dipped one wing in approval.