Ruaidri: The Sword and the Spirit, Book Four

Chapter Eight

The men had returned to Cathan early that afternoon. Elspeth had watched their arrival from her window, and waited a while till she’d gone in search of Brochan. “He told me there’s to be a betrothal announcement at supper tonight,” she said to Cristie later on, as she settled wee Kennett onto her lap.

Cristie nodded and gave her a sad smile. “Aye, Ewan told me. I’m sorry, Elspeth.”

“I cannae pretend to be surprised.” Elspeth nestled her cheek against Kennett’s soft curls. “Apparently, the lass is very bonny.”

“So are you,” Cristie replied, her voice breaking. “The man who takes you to wife will be very fortunate.”

“Hmm.” Elspeth regarded her. “I’ve never understood why a woman would choose to take the veil. To shut themselves away for life like that. I think I understand it now, though.”

“Oh, Ellie!” Cristie shook her head. “You surely cannae be considering such a thing.”

“Becoming a nun?” Elspeth laughed. “Nay, I’d be shite at it. I’m no’ particularly pious, I cannae sing, and I’m no’ very good at obeying. In fact, now I come to think of it, ‘’tis perhaps as well I’m no’ marrying Ruaidri MacKellar. There’s a part in the ceremony about obeying, which would force me to lie before God.” She laughed again and blinked back tears. “Dinnae fret, Cristie. I’ll be fine, but I think I’ll just take myself off to my room and rest a wee while.”

Cristie looked doubtful. “Are you sure you want to be alone?”

Elspeth nodded. “I’m sure. Actually, there’s something to be said for knowing. ’Tis the not knowing that’s hard to bear.”

“You dinnae have to attend the supper tonight,” Cristie said. “I’ll tell Brochan you have a headache.”

“Nay, dinnae do that. He’ll no’ be fooled. Besides, he said he expects me to be there for diplomacy’s sake, whatever that means.” She drew a shaky breath and pulled her shoulders back. “I’ll be there, Cristie, wearing a smile and my prettiest gown. You’ll see. I’ll even applaud when the betrothal announcement is made. For now, though, I just need a wee bit of time to myself.”

“Is there aught else I can do for you, m’lady?” The maid cocked her head. “You look very bonny, I must say. Very bonny.”

Elspeth had not brought her own maid, but had been allocated one upon her arrival at Cathan, who had spent the past hour doing Elspeth’s hair and helping her to dress.

“Nay, nothing else, Kylie. You’ve done well. Thank you.”

Smiling, the lass bobbed a quick curtsey and left.

Elspeth looked down at herself and stroked a bejewelled hand over the soft, forest-green velvet of her kirtle. A girdle of ruby-red silk, embellished with tiny pearls, rested on her slender hips, while the only adornment on her head was simple gold circlet. Her hair had been brushed till it shone, the splendid russet curls tumbling to her waist. She knew she looked bonny. More than presentable. On the outside, at least. On the inside, she was in tatters.

Uttering a quick prayer, she made her way downstairs, hearing the hum of human celebration as she drew near to the great hall. Already, the kitchen aromas were playing havoc with her poor stomach. It occurred to her that her greatest challenge might be to actually eat anything.

“Right, lass,” she muttered, slowing her stride as she approached the open door. “Chin up, shoulders back.”

She entered and paused, her gaze first going to the head table. Ruaidri was already seated, flanked by Ewan and Cristie on one side, Jacques and Morag on the other. Ruaidri looked very much at ease, she thought. Happy, even. Odd, how she could feel both gladness for him and anguish for herself at the same time. As she watched, he leant over and said something to Ewan, whatever it was resulting in laughter from both of them. It seemed they’d reconciled since their argument. Not that doing so was ever in doubt.

Then, as if he somehow sensed being watched, Ruaidri looked over to where she stood. His smile faded, and he acknowledged her presence with a slight inclination of his head. Keeping her expression impassive, Elspeth inclined her head in response and then looked away, seeking Brochan.

“Laird MacAulay is seated on the centre table, down there at the front, my lady.” A serving maid, flagon in one hand and a tray in the other, pointed with her chin. “Yours is the vacant seat across from his.”

Elspeth nodded her thanks. At that same moment, Brochan caught her attention with a wave of his hand. She realized, to her dismay, that she’d be seated directly in front of the dais, in full view of Ruaidri.

“Aye, and so what?” she said, under her breath. Aware of the admiring glances, she made her way to her seat. If those present only knew what lay behind her noble fa?ade, she thought, but then immediately thrust the thought aside. She was determined to control her emotions, to feign joy even though her heart was breaking.

Before taking her seat, as manners dictated, Elspeth faced the dais and inclined her head, silently cursing the slight tremble in her legs as she curtseyed.

“Good eve, my lady.” Ruaidri made no attempt to lower his voice. If anything, he was making sure his greeting would be heard by more than her. “You look especially lovely tonight. I suspect half the men in this room are already in love with you.”

A ripple of laughter followed from those seated within earshot. Elspeth regarded him with surprise and a touch of dismay. Was he mocking her? She was used to him being aloof with her, avoiding any kind of conversation. Tonight, his mellow expression gave nothing away, though the hint of a smile played on his lips. Uncertain of his mood, Elspeth responded with some levity. “Only half the men, Laird MacKellar?” she countered. “Then it would appear I’m losing my touch.”

More laughter ensued, but Ruaidri’s expression remained unchanged. “I hope you enjoy your evening, my lady,” he said, quietly this time, and pulled his gaze away. Elspeth threw a quick glance at Cristie who gave her a smile that seemed to indicate reassurance, or perhaps sympathy. She hoped it was the former.

“He’s right,” Brochan said, as Elspeth sank thankfully into her seat.

She regarded him blankly, her mind busy dissecting every word Ruaidri had said, looking for a reason to doubt his mockery. “About what?”

“You look especially lovely tonight.”

“Thank you.” Frowning, Elspeth studied her twin. He, like Ruaidri, looked to be at ease, yet she sensed something was not quite right. She looked closer. “Lord above, are those bruises on your neck?”

“Aye.” Grinning, he touched his fingers to them. “They’re almost gone now. Looked much worse a week or so back.”

“What happened?”

“Got into a fight. Someone tried to throttle me.”

“At Roscraig? Nay, Brochan MacAulay, you didnae! Why? And who with?”

“Och, ’twas neither something nor nothing. No harm done.” He shrugged. “And I’d rather no’ speak of it, if you dinnae mind, since I came off worse.”

Elspeth heaved a sigh. “Men,” she muttered, watching as one of the servers poured wine into her goblet.

Not an hour later, with the food on her plate hardly touched, the same server filled her goblet for the fourth time. Elspeth reached for it, the attempt halted by Brochan’s hand atop hers.

“That’s enough, Ellie,” he said, quietly. “You’ve polished off three already and, unless you ate in your chamber earlier, you’re drinking on an empty stomach. Do you no’ like the food? You’ve barely had a mouthful.”

Frowning, Ellie looked at the piece of venison on her plate, long since gone cold. “I didnae realize you were counting, and I’m no’ very hungry.” She pulled her hand out from beneath Brochan’s and got to her feet. “Actually, I need a few moments. I’ll no’ be long.”

“Where are you going?”

“Well, as you very recently pointed out, I’ve had a goblet or three of wine.” she replied. “Does that answer your question or shall I explain my intention in more detail?”

He scowled. “Just dinnae take too long. You dinnae want to miss the announcement.”

As she had at least a hundred times since she’d sat down, Elspeth cast a surreptitious glance at Ruaidri, who was, at that moment, chatting to Jacques. Not once, since his earlier greeting, had he spoken to her again. “God forbid,” she replied, and hiccupped.

“I mean it, lass,” Brochan said, still scowling. “Dinnae dawdle.”

This time Elspeth responded with a nonchalant wave of her hand and weaved her way toward the door. Stepping into the hallway, she halted and drew breath, the vague throb of a headache settling in behind her eyes. “Bollocks,” she muttered, hoisting up her skirts as she made her way toward the privy. After seeing to her needs, she headed back toward the great hall, Brochan’s words playing in her head.

“You dinnae want to miss the announcement.”

Aye, God forbid she miss the declaration that would put an end to any and all of her foolish dreams, at least where Ruaidri MacKellar was concerned. An unexpected sense of loss arose within, and she slowed her step. She recognized the emotion. It had actually been threatening her for a while, but up till now she’d refused to acknowledge it. It was, however, an inevitability. She had to face it, allow herself to be consumed by it. Which she was, right then and there.

Grief.

It dried her throat, benumbed her heart, and sneaked into the depths of her mind where it extinguished a final, pathetic glimmer of hope.

The open door of the great hall lay ahead, and Elspeth came to sudden halt, as if standing on the edge of a precipice. To enter that place again, to take her seat so close to Ruaidri, to feign delight as he shared news of his bride-to-be, to witness his happiness and rejoice in it, even though her heart lay in pieces… nay, she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face it. Not even for diplomacy’s sake. She simply did not possess that kind of courage.

“You dinnae want to miss the announcement.”

“Sorry, Brochan, but I must,” she said, and spun on her heel.

Minutes later, she stepped outside, where moonlight drenched the castle walls with silver and darkened the shadows. Beyond the castle walls, the sluggish pitch of waves hinted at a tranquil night. Only a slight breeze disturbed the chill air, which clouded Elspeth’s breath. Inhaling, she lifted her face to the stars, their pinpricks of light subdued by the brilliance of the moon.

“Magnificent,” she whispered, finding a small measure of peace in the splendour of it all, though it failed to lighten the weight of sadness that bore down on her. The chill was already nipping at her fingers and toes, though not enough to have her scurrying back inside. She suppressed a shiver and moved across the courtyard. Perhaps a brisk walk might stave off the cold.

Then the faint whinny of a horse drew her attention.

The stables! They offered a semblance of shelter and might also serve as a temporary refuge, since no one would think to look for her there. Then again, no one but Brochan, or perhaps Cristie, had reason to question her absence. With that thought came an unpleasant twinge of self-pity, which she immediately thrust aside. Teeth chattering, she lifted her skirts and scooted across the cobbles.

After the brilliance of the moonlight, the darkness of the stables seemed absolute. Breathing in the not-so-unpleasant odors of horse and hay, Elspeth paused on the threshold till her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Then she wandered over to the first stall to be greeted by the dappled face of its occupant. The horse parted with a soft whicker and expelled a heated puff of breath that clouded and immediately vanished.

“Good eve to you as well, sir.” Elspeth stroked the horse’s velvety nose. “At least, you look like a sir, but it’s too dark to be absolutely sure. Apologies if I’m wrong and also for interrupting you. ’Tis just that I need...” She bit down on her lip. “That is, tonight isnae one I will ever care to remember, so I’m trying to avoid making memories that would hurt the most. I’d rather recall being in this stable, talking to you, than recall watching Ruaidri MacKellar announce his betrothal.” Still stroking the horse’s nose, she wondered to whom the beast belonged, and specifically, it if might belong to Ruaidri. To her horror, that brought to mind the sickening reminder that Alastair had killed Ruaidri’s previous horse. “My brother was a monster,” she murmured, looking the animal in the eye. “A servant of the Devil himself, which is why your laird doesnae like me very much.”

The horse shook its head and blew another hot breath over Elspeth’s hair.

“Aye, I ken, you probably think me daft.” She hiccupped and hugged herself against the cold. “I reckon I’m a wee bit drunk as well, which might explain why I’m standing here talking to a horse while freezing my arse off. Anyway, truth is, all my hopes and dreams are... well, they’re all gone. Over. Finished.” She blinked back a fresh burn of tears. “And I cannae bear—”

Startled by a sudden groan from the depths of the stable, Elspeth turned and squinted into the dark. “Who’s there?” she demanded, with more courage that she felt. Moments later, the response came in the form of a low rumble, another deep groan, and long, shuddering horse-breath. Elspeth drew a sharp breath of her own and held it, the hair on her neck lifting as she peered toward the sound. Then came a couple of grunts, a rustle of straw, and a definite splash, as if someone had emptied a bucket of water onto the floor.

Elspeth, realizing what it meant, heaved a sigh of relief. Somewhere in the stables, a horse was in foal. “Thank you for listening to my prattle, whatever your name is,” she said, to her dappled friend. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to look in on the one who is about to become a mother. ’Tis a while since I witnessed a horse giving birth.”

Squinting into the shadows, Elspeth groped her way along the stalls, peering over the gates as she went. Finally, in the last stall, she found the mother-to-be. The mare, her belly clearly distended, lay on her side on a thick bed of straw. She was a pretty little horse, with a coat as silver as the moonlight.

“And good eve to you as well, wee màthair.” Elspeth folded her arms atop the gate and rested her chin on them. “I hope you dinnae mind some company, but I’d rather be out here than in there. In any case, dinnae fret. Just take your time.”

“Her name is Malvina,” said a small voice, and Elspeth barely suppressed a squeal. “And the grey you were talking to is Carrick,” the voice went on. “He’s a gelding, an’ belongs to Laird MacKellar. I’m sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

The small voice belonged to a child, a boy, who emerged from the shadows.

Elspeth gazed down at him, her cheeks warming at the thought of what he might have overheard. “Aye, you did give me a bit of a scare. You’re Flip, aye? The wee lad who came here with Sir Gabriel and Lady Breanna?”

He sniffed. “Aye.”

“Do you know it’s rude to eavesdrop on people, Flip?”

“I do, aye. Sir Gabriel told me,” he replied, with a vigorous nod of his head. “But you seemed... you seemed to be sad, so I wasn’t sure if I should say something or not. I meant no harm. Will you tell Sir Gabriel?”

“If I do, will he be cross with you?”

“Um, no, Sir Gabriel is never cross.” A frown came to his little face. “But he might be disappointed.”

“Well, we cannae have that, can we?” Elspeth smiled down at him. “How about this? I willnae say anything about your eavesdropping, if you dinnae repeat to anyone what you overheard. It can be our secret.”

The child looked doubtful. “Is it not wrong to do that?”

“I dinnae think so, since it willnae cause harm to anyone.” She hiccupped. “Oops. Excuse me. So, ’tis just between us, aye?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “But I have to go and tell Niall that Malvina is foaling. She lost the last one.”

“Only Niall? No one else?”

He appeared to think for a moment and then nodded again. “Only Niall.”

“Good.” Elspeth smiled. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Malvina, then.”

“If you hold your breath long enough, your hiccups will stop,” he said, and then sped off.

Hiccups were the least of Elspeth’s discomfort. The cold, by now, had worked its way into her bones. Reason told her it was folly to continue suffering as she was, when a short walk across the courtyard would have her back in the warmth. The very thought weakened her resolve.

Then a muffled, yet distinct, noise arose within the castle, a chaotic cumulation of applause, cheers, and whistles that reached a peak before slowly fading away. Elspeth knew, of course, what it represented. She closed her eyes and rose above her sorrow. “Congratulations, Ruaidri,” she whispered. “You, more than anyone I know, deserve to be happy, but most of all, you deserve to be loved. I pray you will be, and may God bless you.”

Releasing a shaky sigh, she regarded the mare once more. “Right, come on, Malvina,” she said. “’tis a night of memories. Watching your wee foal being born will, with God’s mercy, be the only happy memory on my list for today. Naught will surpass it, and you have my word on that.”

The mare half-rolled and let out a low whinny as a pair of white, spindly legs, still wrapped in their pale, protective sac, protruded from her rear end. Elspeth hugged herself and shifted on her frozen feet. “Aye, that’s it, lass,” she murmured. “That’s it.”

With a grunt, the mare half sat up and then lay down again, and a little more of the legs appeared. For a while, nothing happened. “I ken you’re tired,” Elspeth said, “but dinnae give up. I swear I’ll no’ leave till your bairn is born, though I might well die of cold afore that happens.”

A footfall in the darkness startled her and she let out a squeak. A voice followed, one that she would never have expected to hear. “I beg your pardon, my lady,” Ruaidri MacKellar stepped out of the shadows. “I didnae mean to frighten you. How’s she doing?”

Elspeth found she had suddenly lost any and all capacity to hold a single thought. “She?”

“Malvina.” Frowning, he leaned his elbows on the gate and regarded the mare. “I was told she’d begun her foaling. The last one didnae go so well, unfortunately.”

“Ah, right. Forgive me, Laird MacKellar, you... you took me by surprise.” Elspeth’s teeth chattered as she glanced at the mare. “She seems to be doing all right, but I confess I dinnae ken much about these things.”

“Hmm.” Still frowning, he unfastened his cloak. “May I ask what you’re doing here, my lady?”

“Oh, I, um...” Unable to lie to Ruaidri’s face, she turned her attention back to the mare. “I had a wee bit of a headache—from the tallow smoke I should think—so I came out here for some fresh air.”

There followed a few moments of silence when she sensed his scrutiny. Then, “You missed the betrothal announcement.”

“Aye, and I must apologize for that.” Still, she could not look at him, but managed to put some levity in her voice. “I heard it, though, all the way out here. The cheering and everything. It seems the news was well received.”

“Aye, ’twas very well received, as I expected it to be.” Yet more silence. “Look at me, my lady.”

A moment’s hesitation ensued before Elspeth obeyed, barely enough time to summon a smidgen of courage. She turned and met his dark gaze, wishing he would leave and wishing he would stay. He regarded her for a moment, his gaze searching, questioning. Elspeth squirmed inwardly beneath his scrutiny, wondering if he could see the threat of tears behind her eyes and the fallacy of her smile.

Heaving a sigh, he shrugged his cloak off his shoulders and settled it around hers. “Daft lass,” he muttered. “What were you thinking, coming out here without a cloak? Look at you, half-frozen.”

“More than half, I think.” Elspeth almost wept with relief as she absorbed the warmth that had come from his body. It was almost like being hugged by him. His display of kindness toward her was unexpected and, more notably, uncharacteristic. Not that he’d ever have let her freeze, but he’d have been more likely to insist she return indoors instantly, no argument. It seemed his betrothal to Màiri Beth had done much to soften his inherent anger and chase the darkness from his soul. A fine thing, indeed. So why did it hurt to acknowledge it? “Thank you, Laird, but now you’ll feel the cold, I fear.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, peering over the gate once more.

As if to exorcise her unwarranted resentment toward Màiri Beth, Elspeth dared to speak unselfishly. “If you dinnae mind me saying so, I’m very glad you’ve found some happiness.” She hiccupped. “Excuse me. You deserve it.”

Ruaidri gave her an odd look. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m sure Brochan is happy for you as well.”

A soft laugh followed. “Aye, there’s a very good chance of that.”

A strange response, but before Elspeth could comment further, a groan from the mare drew her attention. “Oh, look,” she said. “The foal’s wee head is out. White, too, like its legs. I wonder what it’ll be. A filly, I reckon.”

“Why a filly?”

“It—she—looks like a wee filly.”

Ruaidri shrugged. “Either way, ’tis a foal of some significance, descended from my grandmother’s mare who, incidentally, was also called Malvina.”

“From the legend of the white heather?”

“Aye, that’s the one.” He parted with another quiet laugh. “Actually, now that I come to think of it, history is repeating itself here tonight. It’s uncanny.”

“With the horse, you mean?”

“That’s part of it, aye, but there’s more to it than that,” he replied. “There’s you and I, here in the stable, a betrothal announcement, and a misunderstanding. The only thing that’s missing is the snow. This all happened once before, you see. Well, most of it, anyway. It was winter at that time, hence the snow, but it was also the night my grandfather and grandmother were officially betrothed. My grandmother was hiding out here in the stables, under the impression that my grandfather was to be betrothed to another that night. My grandfather came looking for her after the announcement was made, gave her his cloak, and told her she’d been mistaken about the announcement. Oh, and the foal born that night was a filly, and as white as the snow. My grandfather gave her the foal as a gift on their wedding day. She was named Malvina, after the legend.”

Elspeth had not taken her eyes off Ruaidri the entire time he’d spoken. It was a lovely tale. Magical, even. She had the impression he was making a point, but she failed to see it. What had she missed? Or rather, what had she misunderstood? “That... that is rather a lot of coincidences,” she said, still puzzling.

“Aye, it is.” He spun round at the sound of someone approaching. “Not now, Niall.”

“Laird?”

“The mare is doing fine. If I need you, I’ll send for you.”

“As you wish,” came the response, after a slight hesitation.

“I’m no’ to be disturbed for the next while, in fact. By anyone.”

The man looked past him, eyes widening at the sight of Elspeth, followed by a faint smile and a nod. “Understood, Laird.”

Despite Ruaidri’s cloak, Elspeth shivered. Something about this encounter with Ruaidri troubled her. Why would he not wish to be disturbed? And why was he being so... so nice? Why, all of a sudden, he was acting as if nothing had ever come between them? Was this some kind of cruel game? A way of getting back at Alastair? She recalled Niall’s expression and his comment.

‘Understood, Laird.’

What was understood? Was Ruaidri toying with her? Using her, somehow? Nay, he couldn’t be that cruel. could he?

She backed up a step. “What is going on, Laird MacKellar?”

Ruaidri cursed inwardly. The last thing he’d wanted to do was frighten the lass, yet that is exactly what he’d apparently achieved. The single step back, the mistrust in her beautiful eyes, the slight tremor in her voice. By all the saints, he was making a complete bollocks of everything. Then again, he was in unfamiliar territory. That, and the fact the lass had good reason to question his cordiality, given how he’d held her at arm’s length for so long. He could, of course, simply blurt out that he’d been a complete arse, and that he loved her and had loved her for a while. Oddly, though, it didn’t feel appropriate. Not yet, at least. To suddenly profess undying love seemed flimsy. Less than sincere. He needed to lessen the gap between them first—the gap he had created. So far, though, it wasn’t going terribly well.

“Elspeth, please, dinnae look at me like that. Nothing is going on, I swear. At least, nothing you need fear. ’Tis just that we have a conversation to finish.”

“I cannae imagine what else you wish to speak of. Enough has been said this eve already.” She unfastened the cloak and held it out to him. “Here, I dinnae have need of it anymore. If you wouldnae mind stepping aside, I’d like to leave.”

“I’m no’ referring to tonight, lass. I’m talking about the night before I left for Roscraig, when you came to see me. You said you wanted to tell me something, but Ewan interrupted us, and then you left. What was it you wanted to say?”

“Whatever it was, it no longer matters.” Elspeth shook the cloak at him. “Here. Take it.”

“It matters to me.”

“But why?” A look of anguish came to her face. “Why, all of a sudden, would you give a shite about what I had to say? I’m a MacAulay, or has that ugly wee truth somehow slipped your mind? And will you please take this damn cloak before I drop it on the ground.”

Ruaidri ran a hand through his hair, resisting a fierce desire to take the lass in his arms and kiss her senseless, something he should have done months ago. “Nay, it hasnae slipped my mind. I ken very well who you are, and that no longer matters, either. I just need to know why you came to me that night. You wanted to tell me something. What was it? Please, it’s important.”

She gave him a dubious look “So you can mock me, aye? For I’m quite certain that is your intent, and I’m also certain I couldnae bear it.”

“’Tis no’ my intent at all.” He took a step toward her, narrowing the space she’d placed between them. “I cannae blame you for doubting me, lass, but I swear before God, my intent is harmless.”

Elspeth regarded him for a moment and then heaved a sigh. “You should ken, Laird MacKellar, that I’m a wee bit drunk and also very tired. I really would like to leave now, so will you take this damn cloak, please? It’s heavy.”

Ruaidri opened his mouth to argue again, but paused. This was going nowhere. If she truly wanted to leave, he should let her. Meeting her in the stable had never been part of the plan, anyway. Given the similarities between this night and another from many years before, he’d allowed sentiment and fancy to steer his thoughts. He’d wanted history to be repeated, to attribute the coincidences of that night not to chance, but to destiny, not to mention a blessed miracle.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to tell her the truth of the announcement. She’d find out, soon enough, about what had taken place in the great hall that night. Perhaps it was more fitting, after all, that she hear it from Brochan first. Ruaidri would simply wait and hope that she might, at some point, seek him out again. What happened after that remained to be seen.

“Off you go, then.” He took the cloak, but wrapped it around her once more. “Keep it on till you get inside, and then you can drop it on the ground.”

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but was interrupted by a low, shuddering groan from the stall.

Ruaidri looked over the gate just as the foal slid from its mother’s body, settled into the thick straw, and shook its head. It was, like its dam, pure white.

“Welcome to Castle Cathan,” Ruaidri murmured. “And I think you might be right, my lady. I reckon we have a wee filly.”

Drawn by her silence, he regarded Elspeth, her hands clinging to the top of the gate as she watched, apparently transfixed by what had just taken place. A tear slid down her cheek, forging a perfect little path to the edge of her mouth. She wiped it away, leaving a dusty smudge on her face. Ruaidri obeyed his gut feeling and said nothing. Instead, he watched as the mare, still laying on her side, twisted around and began to nuzzle and lick her newborn.

“She’s perfect,” Elspeth murmured. “Absolutely perfect.”

Ruaidri glanced at her. “Aye,” he said, softly. “She is.”

Elspeth turned to him and their gazes locked. “I went to see you that night to tell you that I love you, Laird MacKellar, and that I have loved you since the first time we met, here at Castle Cathan after Cristie brought you home. When I first saw you, I...” Dusty fingers swiped another tear from her cheek. “I was not in any way prepared for the way you looked. So thin, so weak. I felt ashamed, so terribly ashamed, that the man I called brother was responsible. I barely knew what to say to you. But, as it happened, ’twas you who set me at ease. Perhaps you dinnae recall, but we chatted for a while that evening, you and I. Back then, you didnae look at me as though I was shite on your shoes. You were polite and charming and funny, even after all you’d suffered. I’m no’ sure exactly when, but at some point, during that evening, I lost my heart to you. And to this day, Laird, you still have it. You will always have it. That is what I wanted to tell you that night.” She laughed through her tears. “I dared to imagine that if I told you these things, you’d be obliged to take them with you to Roscraig, and maybe consider them when you were deciding to wed Màiri Beth. And that you might, just might, think about me and...” Another laugh, softer and edged with sorrow. “Aye, well, ’tis of no consequence. It was a ridiculous idea. As if you would ever consider marrying me, a MacAu—”

Ruaidri’s kiss stole the last part of her name. He drew her close, his hand moving up to cradle her head as his lips moving gently over hers. She tasted of salty tears and wine, and smelled of roses. Leaning into him, she parted with a soft little moan that lit a fire deep inside him. It felt incredibly right, holding her and kissing her. Nothing less than destined. Meant to be, after all.

But then, in the next moment, she stiffened and broke the kiss. “Tell me you’re no’ toying with me, Laird MacKellar.” Chest heaving, she regarding him with wild eyes. “Please tell me this means something.”

“I’m no’ toying with you, Elspeth.” Smiling, he stroked her hair. “And it means everything.”

She inhaled a shaky breath. “But, what about the betrothal announcement?”

“The one I made tonight?”

She blinked. “Has there been more than one?”

He shrugged. “You might have been referring to the one I spoke of earlier, which was made seventy odd years ago and, like I said, was also misunderstood. That time, by my grandmother.” He hooked one of her loose curls around his finger. “This time, by your sweet self.”

She shook her head. “Laird MacKellar, please stop speaking in riddles. What have I misunderstood? Did you make a betrothal announcement tonight or not?”

For some reason, Ruaidri couldn’t stop smiling. “Since I just kissed you, lass, I think you can dispense with the Laird MacKellar thing. Ruaidri is fine.”

“By Odin’s hairy arse.” She hiccupped. “You’re near as impossible as my twin.”

Feigning disapproval, Ruaidri sucked in a breath. “Who, by the way, warned me you cursed a lot.”

She huffed. “There are times when it’s the only appropriate thing to do. Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Aye, I will in a moment.” He opened the pouch at his belt and took out the sprig of heather. “Tell me, do you recognize this?”

Elspeth gasped. “Where did you get that?”

“Found it on the floor in my chambers the night you came to tell me you loved me.” It was not, he decided, the moment to tell her about the subsequent events. He’d save that for another time. “Is it yours?”

She nodded and touched the fragile flowers with her fingertips. “Aye. That is, I brought it here to give to you. I found it growing in the wee cove where Fergus keeps his boat, the same boat that Cristie took across the loch that night. I couldnae believe my eyes when I saw it. It seemed significant, somehow. I’m glad you found it and especially glad you kept it.”

“I took it to Roscraig with me.”

Her brows lifted. “You did?”

“Aye.”

“Why? I mean, I’m pleased that you did, but if you knew you were going to arrange a marriage with Màiri Beth, why would you bother with a wee token from me?”

“I cannae really explain it. I almost didnae take it, in truth.”

“Which brings us back to the announcement. Did you make it?”

“You ken I did. You said yourself, you heard the commotion.”

“So, you actually announced your betrothal to Màiri Beth Ranald?” A sheen came to her eyes again. “Say aye, and I swear I’ll never forgive you for what took place here just now.”

“Nay.”

Elspeth’s responding huff actually lifted a strand of Ruaidri’s hair. “Nay, you willnae say aye? Or nay, you didnae announce your betrothal to Màiri Beth Ranald?”

Ruaidri feigned a moment of contemplation. “The second one.”

A sigh of what sounded like relief followed. “Then what did you announce?”

“Oh, just that Laird Brochan MacAulay is betrothed to Lady Màiri Beth Ranald.”

Elspeth’s jaw dropped.

Ruaidri tried not to laugh. “I wouldnae gape like that for too long, lass,” he said. “There are some nasty wee things buzzing around in here.”

Elspeth’s mouth almost closed. “Brochan,” she said. “Betrothed.”

“Aye.”

“To Màiri Beth Ranald.”

“Aye.”

“But... how?”

Beside them, the mare staggered to her feet, swaying a little as she continued to nudge at her foal. “Good lass,” Ruaidri muttered and then turned back to Elspeth. “I’ll tell you all about it, mo chridhe, but no’ here. Somewhere warm.” He held out a hand. “Come on.”

Elspeth placed her hand his and looked over the gate. “It would seem I was wrong about the memories, Malvina,” she said. “And I’ve never been so happy to be wrong in my entire life.”