Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A s they rode toward Castle MacLeod, Dahlia gulped in deep breaths of the crisp morning air. It had never felt so fresh and clear, and the chirruping of early birdsong was the loveliest music she'd ever heard. It was difficult to grasp the reality that Bairre would never menace her again, that the dark shadow he'd cast over her life was gone for good.

She was free.

Exhausted, filthy, her hair an untidy bird's nest of tangled knots, her clothing torn, she'd not experienced such a sense of lightness and pure joy of freedom in years. Maybe, having lost here freedom, regaining it was all the sweeter.

Flanked by her brother, with Arran riding alongside, her heart was singing. As the castle came into sight she gasped with delight. Soon she'd be in her home, safe once again, surrounded by her loved ones.

She flicked a sideways glance at Arran. His presence beside her warmed her and filled her with hope for the future. Her thoughts raced back to the night they'd spent in the old stables and his declaration of love and proposal of marriage.

At the time, it had seemed impossible. She was betrothed to Bairre Mackinnon by a decree of King Robert and there was no way out of that. Even though the danger was past, she shuddered at the thought of his hands on her and the cruelty in his eyes.

As they rode through the portcullis and into the courtyard Sofia, Catalina and Emilia came running down the steps of the keep. They reached her as she dismounted and, as the groom led her horse away to the stables, the women seized her in a fragrant three-way hug.

"We've been mad with fashing over ye," Sofia said and tightened the hug.

"I've nae slept a wink," Catalina said through tears.

"All I could think of was ye in the clutches of that madman," Emilia said, the relief in her voice palpable. After all, only she among them, knew exactly what cruelty Bairre Makinnon was capable of.

As the men dismounted, the women hastened across to them, leaving her standing by herself, her head in a whirl.

Arran was being hugged by his mother but he lifted his arm toward Dahlia and she happily ran to him and allowed him to close his strong arm around her while the other arm enclosed a smiling Emilia.

The courtyard was filled with the hubbub of joyful voices and the heartwarming sounds of reunions. The guards claimed their women and slowly the little cavalcade of excited women and back-slapping men made their way into the keep, where the servants were already laying out food to break their fast.

Dahlia, seated between Emilia and Arran, regained her lost appetite. It had been more than a day since she'd eaten.

When they'd finished their meal, Catalina and Sofia came by to escort her to her bedchamber while Haldor asked his brothers and Arran to join him in his study. He stooped before Emilia, holding his arm out for her to take. "I'd like it if ye could join us also. We've matters that need tae be discussed before any of us may take our rest."

She smiled and took his arm as they joined the others on the way to Haldor's study.

"Come sister," Sofia commanded. A laughing Dahlia took her sisters' arms and, together they took the staircase leading up to her chamber.

"I've asked the maids tae bring hot water." Catalina shot a glance up and down Dahlia's bedraggled form. "Methinks ye could dae with a scrub and something freshly laundered tae don."

It occurred briefly to Dahlia to protest. Sleep, she craved sleep. She'd lost track entirely of when she'd slept last. Could it have been back at the village when she'd curled so contentedly beside Arran?

By the time she'd bathed, and Catalina and Sofia had washed and dried her hair and brushed it into a waterfall over her shoulders to her waist, she was flagging.

"And then what happened?" Catalina asked, her eyes wide.

Dahlia had already told them of the events leading up to her capture by Bairre and his men and the trick played on Arran by Craig Donald to convince him she'd be safe with him.

She gave a short laugh. "I was tied up, seated in a chair, wondering if I was tae be put tae the sword and me life would be ended soon, when the door was flung open and Arran was at me side, whispering in me ear."

Sofia clapped. "Thank the heavens. Did yer heart jump fer joy?"

"Of course. It was the most glorious moment."

"Now that ye're nae longer betrothed tae Bairre, will Arran be yer sweetheart?"

She felt her cheeks burn. Would they be sweethearts now? Although Arran had asked her to marry him, it felt like a lifetime ago. Would he still feel the same now?

"I'd like that," she said with a sigh. "But now, dear sisters I think I must sleep, I cannae keep me eyes open."

They fussed over her, making sure she had a fresh night-shift, and that her bed was strewn with lavender. She climbed under the covers and, after making sure she was comfortable and lacking for nothing, her two sisters at last left her side.

In the briefest of time, she fell into a deep, peaceful, sleep.

Arran and Emilia joined Haldor and his brothers at the oak table in the center of his study. The fire blazed merrily and it seemed to Arran that mayhap last night's carnage had been nothing more than a nightmarish dream he'd now woken from.

One glance at Haldor's serious features brought him back to reality. It was a hard reality to face. Recalling the hateful expression on Craig's face as he held his dirk to Dahlia's throat, Arran shuddered. Even now it was almost impossible for him to believe that someone he'd cherished as a friend for most of his life had callously betrayed him.

"This will take some explaining to King Robert."

"How so?" Arne raised a questioning brow. "It is clear enough. Me sister's life was threatened by Bairre and his henchmen and we rescued her." He shrugged and glanced around the table. "In the process, Bairre Mackinnon met with a fatal accident."

"That may well be one way of putting it." Haldor gave a half smile. "But the king's desire was for the betrothal to bring about peace between the MacLeods and the Mackinnons. Instead, it ended in bloodshed and the death of the laird." His fingers plucked at a cloth lining the table and he gazed dolefully into the fire.

Arran could see Haldor's mind working through the difficult puzzle of how to pass the news to King Robert without his wrath descending on the MacLeods.

"There is something else."

Haldor looked up, a hopeful light in his eyes. "Ye've an idea as to how we could make the best of this?"

"Ye may recall that during Bairre's six months absence the Clan council made me laird in a temporary post until Bairre's return."

"Aye," Ivar turned to Arran. "Could they dae so again?"

Haldor shook his head. "The council only took that step because they were unsure how long Bairre would be absent. If ye're naught but a distant cousin, ye have nae blood claim tae the lairdship."

Arran took a deep breath. Now was the time for him to explain his real identity. Before doing so, he turned to his mother. "I believe me maither has a story tae tell and I beg yer good graces tae hear her out."

The three brothers nodded their heads in agreement. "Melady Emilia, we would be grateful fer yer story," Haldor said.

Emilia went on to explain how she had met Laird Gregory Mackinnon after his wife, the mother of James and Bairre, had succumbed to the illness she had suffered of for many years.

"The laird and I were wed and I bore him a son. We were happy for a time before Gregory was killed in battle." She looked up at Arran seated opposite. "And that son of mine is here before ye. The rightful heir tae the lairdship."

Haldor sprang to his feet and reached out his hand. Arran also stood and shook the proffered hand. "This is the best news, Arran." Haldor patted his shoulder. "With yersel' as the laird, we can convince the king that there is peace between our clans and that the decreed wedding between Bairre and me sister was never necessary."

Arran grinned to himself. He had yet to seek approval from her brother to claim Dahlia's hand in marriage. But much as it pained him, his official betrothal to Dahlia would have to wait until the evidence of his birth and his right to become Laird of the Mackinnons was in his possession.

Emilia raised a hand. "I am afeared the official documents signed by meself and Laird Gregory attesting tae the birth of our son are in the possession of Father Deiran, the priest who performed the wedding ceremony. It may be that they are lost tae us."

"If ye ken where this priest can be located, surely he can be found."

"All I ken is that soon after our wedding he returned to Eire, which was where he came from. I have his name and the name of the monastery to which he belonged. Yet many years have passed, and I dinnae ken if he still lives or has remained at that place."

"Once ye give me those names, I'll send me messengers abroad at once tae search fer him with all urgency. They will find a sea crossing and seek out this monastery."

"In the meantime," Haldor turned once more to Arran, "the chambermaids have prepared yer sleeping quarters. If ye wish tae rest, then I will bid ye sweet-sleep." He strode toward the door. "Me wife Sofia awaits me and I've a mind tae spend a while in me own chamber." He looked around the assembled group. "But tonight, we'll dine together, and it will be a splendid feast amid much rejoicing fer the peace to come between our two clans." With that, he left them.

Ivar yawned and got to his feet grinning. "'Tis a fine idea. We spent our night fighting and nae sleeping and I believe me lovely Catalina missed me sorely and ‘tis time I sought her company.

That left Arne. He too got to his feet. Before he left the study he bowed graciously to Emilia. "I wish ye good day melady. I too will take me rest."

Emilia reached a hand to squeeze Arran's arm. "Me son, I cannae tell ye how me heart is gladdened tae see ye safe."

"And at last, if all goes how it should, ye will be able tae take yer place at Castle Mackinnon as the maither of the laird."

She uttered a sigh, a gentle smile dawning on her sweet face.

It was truly a remarkable feast to celebrate the final defeat of an enemy and the hope for a brighter and more peaceful future. The tables groaned with haunches of roast venison, racks of lamb, roasted geese, jugs of wine and ale and sublime mountains of strawberry tarts, almond cakes, boiled compotes sweetened with honey and piled with clotted cream.

Seated beside Arran at the high table, Dahlia glowed, more beautiful than he had ever seen her. She'd allowed her long hair to flow free over her shoulders in a tumbling, silvery, waterfall, enticing him. He longed to run his fingers through those fragrant tresses.

"Ye're nae playing yer clàrsach this night, me love?" His mind went over the night he'd dined with the MacLeod brothers and his gaze had met hers as she played her harp. He'd been in love with her then, but he did not know it. And now, she was beside him, and almost all the obstacles to her becoming his betrothed were behind them. Once the papers proving his legitimacy had been found, he would be able to ask for her hand. They would become betrothed and then, finally, at long last, they would be wed.

He leaned over as she raised her spoon, offering him a mouthful of pudding and cream.

Her eyes really are the most glorious cornflower-blue .

"Ye agreed tae be mine a few days gone, but daes yer agreement still hold now that so much has passed between us and Bairre Mackinnon is nay more?"

"Aye. Me agreement holds." She smiled into his green-gold gaze. "Now and forever more."