CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #3
He nodded grimly. “An’ I am sorry, verra much so, that it has taken me so long to learn the truth.”
MacNeil clasped his shoulder, and Tabby saw that he was overjoyed and close to tears.
“I saw Lady Tabitha in yer Destiny, Guy. The gods decided long ago she would be yer better half, an’ that she would guide ye to the truth.
I will admit I became afraid she would fail.
Ye can be the most stubborn of men! But I can see now that I shouldna have ever feared fer ye.
” He turned to Tabby. “Thank ye, Lady Tabitha, fer all ye have done.”
Tabby nodded, tearing up. “You’re welcome. He’s sort of hard to resist.”
MacNeil grinned. “They like to make a man mad with desire, when it helps their cause.”
Tabby realized it was all Fate, and that was fine with her.
“Ye’ll come to Iona tomorrow.” MacNeil smiled and vanished.
Tabby rushed over to Macleod. “You are redeemed,” she whispered unsteadily, taking his hands. “You are forgiven. Tomorrow you take your vows!”
He inhaled, clearly shaken. “Tabitha,” he whispered. “Those vows mean everythin’ to me now.”
THE BEACHES WERE the color of pearls. The morning sunlight was bright and warm, the sky azure, without a single cloud, and the sea was the color of lapis.
Not a bird chirped, not a leaf stirred—the morning was absolutely silent.
Macleod stood before Iona’s holiest shrine, making his vows upon the ancient Book of Wisdom, which MacNeil held.
The Abbot was cloaked in red and gold robes, while Macleod wore a leine so richly dyed that it was gold.
The neckline and hem were lavishly embroidered, and his red-and-black brat was pinned across his right shoulder with his father’s lion brooch.
The huge, gilded and bejeweled ceremonial sword he held dated back to the first days of the Brotherhood—two centuries before Christ was born.
As he spoke, his voice resonated powerfully in the otherwise silent morning.
Tabby was overcome.
They were not alone. Fifty or so Masters were present, most of them bare-legged Highlanders in leines and brats. But a few of them were Lowlanders, Englishmen and Norsemen. Tabby was the only woman there.
The monastery, which was a sanctuary for the Brotherhood, reeked of warrior power and testosterone—it was highly charged and solidly male.
But there was more. Behind the brethren, she could almost see the Ancients in their robes and gowns, shimmering in the morning light, fiercely pleased now.
Clearly they would celebrate later, too.
Their splendor and majesty was inspiring, and she had never felt so small, so insignificant and so humble.
Macleod went down on one knee.
She knew he felt it all, too.
Because this was his Destiny—serving the gods, keeping Faith and protecting the Innocent. And he was her Destiny. Tabby thrilled.
MacNeil laid both his hands on his shoulders, speaking softly now.
Tabby’s heart turned over, bursting with pride. If only Sam were present.
Then she felt a caress upon her shoulder.
She turned and Grandma Sara smiled at her.
For one impossible moment, Tabby saw her grandmother standing there, but not as a wrinkled old woman. She saw a young, beautiful woman, in ancient robes. Then the morning sunlight washed over Sara, and she was gone.
Tabby trembled, even more undone. She had not a doubt her grandmother had just come to join her in the most important moment of her new life. And if her suspicions were correct, Grandma was no stranger to the world of the Masters—just the opposite was true.
Tabby pinched herself. She was incredibly proud of Macleod, deliriously happy as never before, and wildly in love.
Macleod was her Destiny and she was his.
She had been meant to go back in time to set him free from his past, so he could take his vows.
And while Criosaidh was her arch enemy, and they would war for a few centuries more until she was vanquished, so what?
Her powers were growing and so were Macleod’s.
She already knew the kind of Master he would become, and she was confident about her own powers, too.
There would be other forces of evil to battle and fight—it was the law of the universe.
They were about to embark on a lifetime that would encompass centuries.
They would fight evil, protect Innocence, make love, argue a bit—and make babies.
Eventually she would have at least three strapping sons, not to mention a few magically talented daughters—or so she hoped.
And while she missed Sam, she would see her again. Of that, she had no doubt.
She felt her smile widen. Macleod hadn’t asked her to marry him yet, but she knew he would—she’d heard him thinking about it that dawn.
She laughed silently to herself. She could read his mind now and she loved it! He was still terribly macho and he’d probably be medieval until the Renaissance, but she could manage him, oh, yes. After all, she was a Rose.
The ceremony was over. Macleod had risen and MacNeil was shaking his hand, when suddenly the brethren erupted into a single, shockingly powerful roar. Tabby looked at Macleod as their cry of acceptance and triumph echoed over and over again and he looked directly at her.
She inhaled. He had already changed. His power, his confidence and dependability were increasing in leaps and bounds. The man she’d met in the sixteenth century was starting to emerge before her very eyes. And she had to admit it was such a turn-on….
It took him a while to reach her. Every Master reached out to grab his hand or clasp his shoulder and pummel his back.
Tabby didn’t move, breathlessly happy now and already thinking of a few ways to celebrate.
She couldn’t help it. He’d awoken her as no other man ever had, or ever could.
She hadn’t lost the best parts of the old Tabby, but the new Tabby was sexually voracious and not going anywhere, ever.
He finally slipped free of his brothers and reached her. “Have ye ogled enough Masters today?” But he was amused as he pulled her close.
“I’m trying to find Sam her match.” That was actually the truth and she knew he was teasing her, anyway.
He wasn’t jealous—how could he be? Last night she’d given him far more than her body—she’d given him her heart and her soul. He undoubtedly knew it, as he still lurked without compunction. “Yer warrior sister would drive a man to madness.”
“There’s someone for everyone. I am so proud of you,” Tabby said.
His eyes darkened as he held her. “I dinna ken why I was so angry, so guilty, why I refused to serve the gods and the good men, women an’ children o’ the world fer so long.”
“I am glad the past has been laid to rest,” she whispered.
“Aye, me, too, because now we have the present to live in an’ the future to plan.” He pulled her against him and murmured, “An’ how will we celebrate tonight?”
She wet her lips. “I think I can come up with an idea or two.”
His grin was quick, wicked and it revealed that slight dimple. “Have I taught ye too well?”
“Tonight you can find out…when I teach you a thing or two.” Tabby grinned and gave him her hand.
He grinned back at her. “So ye’ll teach me?”
“If you can handle it.”
He laughed. The sound was warm and deep. And they walked back to the other Masters, hand in hand. The celebration beginning was one that would last a lifetime—or two.