Chapter Twenty Eight
Quinn MacVie never ran his horse ragged, and he’d berate any man who did. But if he had to choose between the well-being of a horse or that of a woman—he would pick the woman every time.
“Look, Quinn! I can see the village. We are almost there,” Catarina cried as she scanned the distant village of the Clan Sinclair. “Shall we race the rest of the way?”
Quinn smiled. Then he leaned down and stroked his mare’s mane. “What do ye think?” he said to his horse.
“Please,” Catarina said, her eyes dancing with excitement.
Laughing, Quinn nudged his horse into a gallop. “Alright, but not too fast. These horses have carried us a long way.”
To Catarina it felt like coming home as they thundered through the wooden gates and back into the hearts of the Sinclairs.
There was not a dry eye among the women as they celebrated with hugs and laughter.
Even Ruth’s stern countenance softened as she cupped Catarina’s face.
“Och Katie, ye blessed lass. ‘Tis glad I am to see yer smiling face.”
“But she is our Katie no longer,” Mary said, giving Catarina a playful pinch at the waist.
Ruth arched her brow pointedly at Catarina, making Catarina’s cheeks warm. “I hope you will all forgive me,” she said.
Mary pulled Catarina close again. “There’s nothing to forgive, lass. Anyway, I should have known ye were a Catarina and not a Katie the first time I saw ye make bannock.”
Catarina’s face ached from smiling as she gazed upon the familiar faces.
Aileen clutched a wriggling Finn in her arms. Apparently, he had woken up as a snake three days in a row, but Aileen refused to set him down.
“His tunics will never wash clean. So I told him that I woke up a cage this very morning, and he’s trapped until he wakes up as something sensible that walks on two legs. ”
Catarina burst out laughing, but then she realized someone was missing. “Where is Jennie?” she said, scanning the courtyard.
Straightaway, the merriment came to an end. Catarina frowned at all the somber faces. “What has happened?”
Mary shook her head sadly. “Someone from Clan MacKay came for her. But as it turns out, they might have beguiled the lot of us.”
“I do not understand?” Catarina said.
Ruth cleared her throat. “They were warriors from Clan MacLeod posing as MacKays.”
Catarina’s eyes widened. “That is dreadful.”
“Do not fash yerself,” Mary said, patting her hand. “Sloan has led a party of warriors to fetch her back. She’ll be home before ‘tis time to light the yule log, I’d wager.”
“Will ye stay on with us for a while?” Aileen asked just before she buckled over in pain. Finn scrambled from her arms, then slithered away through the dirt. “Ye wee beastie, that hurt,” she snapped. “Ye can wash yer own tunics from now on.”
Catarina clapped her hand over her mouth to contain her laughter while Mary cast her eyes heavenward. With a sigh, she shifted her gaze back to Catarina and repeated Aileen’s earlier question. “Will ye stay for a while?”
“I wish I could. I would love to be part of a clan,” Catarina said. “I truly would, but we are going to sail the skiff south and return it to its owner, Freya, who will hopefully know where my son has been hidden.”
Ruth pressed a kiss to her cheek. “And rightly so. Ye should be with yer son.”
“I need him,” Catarina said, her voice breaking. “My arms have been empty too long.”
Mary’s warm embrace enveloped her before her first tear could fall. “Where is he, lass?”
Catarina swiped her eyes and looked at Mary through a blur of tears. “Quinn and I do not know for certain, but he is convinced our search will not be long.”
“We must make certain that ye find him quickly,” Ruth said. “Come along, ladies.”
“Where are we going?” Catarina asked.
Ruth smiled at her. “To the stone circle, of course. We’ll dance a prayer to the Mother of All.”
“We can do that?” Catarina said.
Mary laughed, and they hooked arms. “Of course we can, lass.”
Catarina watched Ruth barrel ahead with her usual determination, but then she stopped and turned back, looking pointedly at Catarina. “I expect ye to not fuss this time,” she said. Then she reached up and unpinned her hair, releasing a mass of flaming red curls.
Catarina smiled. “I wouldn’t dare,” she said, her head held high. Then she freed her long, ebony hair.