Chapter Forty
Taskill
Taskill awakened well after dawn, the sun rising. All was silent outside, to his relief, and Sheona slept soundly on the bed. He’d taken the floor and slept without moving.
They’d been through a harrowing and exhausting experience, something that made him look at things differently. He peeked at Sheona, noting how lovely she was even in her sleep, her braids in disarray, but her lips plump and pink, a shade darker than her cheeks.
He opened the door as quietly as he could, an intense need to relieve himself overtaking any other thoughts for the moment.
Once he completed that task, he made a point of wandering back to the shore, keeping an eye out for a wee lass of around six summers.
He recalled some of the guards arguing about Erraid once, some claiming it was an island and others saying it wasn’t, but he hadn’t paid them much mind at the time.
Had they both been brought here by a guiding angel, as Sheona called Lia?
He’d seen her with his own eyes and seen that odd contraption that helped to keep Sheona afloat so they could make it back to shore.
He even recalled Maeve saying she saw something similar when she’d been in the sea near Ulva.
What exactly was Lia?
He wandered down the coast, noting it was low tide on Erraid, an island he was unfamiliar with but couldn’t be too far from Mull or Iona. He climbed a crest and when he reached the top, he nearly took off on a dead run, but he laughed instead.
There, a short distance away, stood the back of Tristan MacClane’s castle. He noted the sea and the tide and figured that in high tide, he’d have to take a boat to the castle from here.
Thus, the reason Erraid was called an island when it wasn’t.
He hurried back to their small cottage, because he’d have to awaken Sheona quickly so they could walk to the castle instead of being forced to swim over when the tide rose again.
But she stepped outside just as he approached. “Come,” he said. “You’ll not believe it until you see it yourself.”
“Where did you go?”
“Down the beach. Over that crest. You have to see it yourself,” he said with a grin, taking her hand in his. “I’ll show you.”
He broke into a slight run, wishing to hurry before it was too late. Helping her up the sandy incline of the crest, when they finally reached the top, he turned to watch her face.
And he loved seeing the delight, knowing exactly when she recognized the view in front of them. “Is that Tristan MacClane’s new castle?” she squealed. “It is! I think it is! We’re saved!”
“Aye, but when the tide comes up, you’ll have to swim over there. We can grab our things and go. I wouldn’t recommend waiting too long.”
“I’ll race you back!” she said, taking off down the dune, squealing as she slid in the sand to the bottom.
Taskill laughed but took off running behind her, enjoying the view. She ran like the most graceful creature in the forest, glancing back over her shoulder with that sparkle in her eye.
He’d let her win just for the joy of racing behind her. He loved watching Sheona because of the way you always knew her mood. She was the happiest bairn he’d ever met when she was small, her smile lighting up the chamber or hall she stepped into, the lilt of her laughter turning heads.
Sheona had been his favorite to swim with, to hunt with, to race against. She had a way of turning every task into something magical, her curiosity at whatever they set against always offering a different view of life.
She never hunted, but she rode her horse like a royal princess and could ride as quietly as a mouse sneaking in for a crumb of bread, calming everything around her so she could hear where the pheasant or deer were.
Everyone followed Sheona’s lead, even the animals.
He loved Sheona, always had, and a small part of him always knew it. He preferred her company to any others. She was always honest and true, not the kind to flatter him with falsehoods or even truths to gain his attention.
She didn’t need trickery or false flattery to gain anyone’s attention.
Perhaps it was time to tell her the truth, tell her the real reason he’d never marry.
“Where are you, Taskill? Are you that slow?” She stood on the stone step in front of the cottage, looking into the copse between them.
He thought of hiding, making her come back searching for him, but he couldn’t do it. They’d been through enough.
Sheona had been through enough. “I’m coming. I just can’t keep up with you. When did you get so fast, lass?” He burst through the trees, laughing.
But the sight in front of him caught him short. Sheona held on to her mantle as if it might disappear.
“Taskill?”
“What the hell?” was all he could get out. “What happened?”
She looked back at him, wide-eyed. “Naught. I opened the door and the entire cottage disappeared. Am I daft?”
Taskill did what he wished to do. He strode up to her and wrapped his arms around her. “You are the farthest thing from daft I’ve ever met. It’s proof that the cottage was arranged by an angel. That guardian angel, Lia.”
“And she took it back.”
“Those are our bags, though I know not how Lia saved them from the sea, so we head to Tristan’s land. Agreed?” His arm dropped and reached for his saddlebag. “And here are my boots! All dry.”
“Are we both daft, Taskill? No one will ever believe us.”
“Nay, we’re not daft. And I know two people who will believe us.”
“Who?”
“Avelina and Dyna. Let’s go before anything else happens.” He took Sheona’s hand in his and they headed back toward the sand dune, one they climbed much slower this time. Probably because he had a growing fear deep in his belly.
Would Tristan’s castle still be there?
Or had they imagined that too?