Chapter 30

Rob couldn’t take his eyes off Melinda. She wore a soft mossy green kirtle, tied with a gold girdle at her waist, that deepened the colour of her eyes to the shade of a woodland pool. Its long sleeves ended in tapered points, one of which almost covered the ring he had put on her finger. That he didnae like. Her hair shone, nut brown flowing down her back, which he preferred. He hated to see a bonnie lass hiding her crowning glory under a veil, as if hiding her loveliness inside a nunnery. “Ye look more beautiful today than I’ve ever seen. Only one thing’s needed to make ye look like a princess: a necklet.”

“I don’t have any; everything I had was left behind in my chamber at Wolfsdale.”

“I’m sorry, lass,” he consoled. “I’m afraid gathering up gold fripperies wasnae at the front of my mind when I asked Becky to bring me the lads and their wee bits of clothes.”

“That’s understandable, but that said, it hasn’t taken long for them to grow out of them. With two of them to clothe, thank heavens Becky is handy with her needle. Have ye seen the gowns she made for them?” She smirked, and he knew why.

“I notice that Ralf’s is the same cloth as yer kirtle but that Harry’s is blue.” He had visited the bairns’ chamber before he headed for his own and Melinda’s.

“Becky thought since Ralf had the cloth left frae my kirtle to go with his green eyes, Harry should have blue since his eyes are just like yers.” she cocked her head to look up at him. “How did they look?”

Rob couldn’t hold back his grin, “As usual, full of mischief. I’ve told Becky not to take them down to the Great Hall until after all the guests leave for the chapel.”

Melinda smiled and nodded her agreement with the notion. “We should go downstairs now. No doubt Morag and the MacArthur could do with some help hosting the guests.” She swung her head, her hair rippling across her shoulders and the smile on her face eager as she told him, “I’ve never attended such a large gathering. My father preferred to travel alone when he went to court, and I’m certain our wedding had a lot fewer guests.”

“That’s because I wanted it done as soon as possible.”

“Aye, we could have made a better start to our life together.” Melinda slanted a glance up at him, as if she had a mind to flirt as she had when they first met. “It wasn’t as if ye were in a rush to have me in yer bed.”

“There was method behind my foolhardiness.” There was gruffness behind his words, an emotion he didnae want to reveal and hid behind picking up a lock of her hair and twisting it round his finger as he said, “Mayhap one day I’ll explain.”

The glossy brown strands around his finger caught a stray ray of sunlight, intensifying the colour. He let it unwind against the creamy skin of her neck, which looked far too bare. “One last thing afore we go down.” He reached into the sporran resting below his waist and pulled out a string of shining gold platelets shaped to sit in a curve about a woman’s neck.

He heard her breath catch, “Oh, my goodness, where did that come from?”

“I asked Gavyn to bring me something fit for the wife of a future Chieftain,” he said holding it up so the gold reflected the sparse band of sun’s rays through the narrow windows.

“Or, as Nhaimeth keeps mentioning, fit for the wife of a Chieftain in the making.” She smiled.

“Aye that does sound better. I hate to think of the McArthur dying. But, as I told you before I left you at Wolfsdale, Gavyn has a cave full of treasures frae the years he fought for France as a mercenary. I told him I would pay him for it, however he wouldn’t accept aught. He says I deserve it for saving his life when Harald might have killed him.”

“I now believe what ye said about Scotland being a wild and dangerous country, yet I can’t find it in me to mind, as long as I’m with ye,” she promised, stretching up on her toes to plant a kiss on her husbands lips; and by the time her heels touched the floor, he had fastened the gold necklace at her throat. She patted it. “How do I look?”

“Guid enough to eat, but we’ll discuss that later.” He chuckled in her ear.

“I should think so. Hurry now, I have yet to meet Kathryn and Gavyn, and after receiving such a fine gift I will be extra polite.” She tucked her soft hand into the crook of his elbow and they made their way downstairs and to stand as witnesses for Nhaimeth and Rowena at their wedding.

“We’ve arrived not a moment too soon,” Henry told Brodwyn, but she hadn’t the words or the breath to answer; they had both been stolen frae her as she rode up the narrow spit of land to reach the gatehouse. Even Henry had looked in awe of the huge castle sitting atop mountainous cliffs overlooking the North Sea. If her instincts hadn’t warned her to act cannily, she might have said to his face that Wolfsdale would fit into Cragenlaw three times over.

Being back in Scotland had revived her patriotism. The Borders werenae a patch on the north of Scotland—less majestic, and lacking much of the grandeur that blessed the country they had passed through to reach Cragenlaw.

The Bailey was almost empty of folk, though they saw a lad running out of the stables offering readily to take care of the horses and another turning a spit with a great beast cooking on it. The clan would eat well today. “Yer just in time,” the lad informed them. “The bride arrived at the chapel nae more than a couple of moments ago.”

With a lift of his thick, greying brows, Henry turned to Brodwyn. “Where’s the chapel?”

“It’s situated to the left once ye reach the upper Bailey,” she said, hoping Henry had nae foolish notions in mind, such as entering the chapel to disrupt the wedding, or expecting her to go with him.

Frowning, he turned in St Clair’s direction and with the wave of a gloved hand, Henry motioned the younger knight to dismount. Following suit himself, he then handed the reins of his mount to his young squire afore coming across to her palfrey to lift her down. As he stretched up, his tunic of blue and gold French brocade creased about his chest, and afore he finished, the hilt of his sword caught and pulled up her kirtle until he set her down on the cobbles. It came to her that Henry hadn’t the slightest notion of how out of place he looked, standing in the middle of Cragenlaw’s lower Bailey surveying the place while attired in all his Norman finery. His surroundings were as fine as if not finer than any Norman Keep but, there, the buildings straddled the land, bright and shiny, whereas Cragenlaw appeared to grow out of the rocks above the cliffs and ring with the echoes of bagpipes playing a lament for all the McArthur family members who had gone afore Euan—her cousin Astrid for one.

If Henry was interested in his surroundings it didnae show. He had one purpose in mind and one only and to that end he spoke out. “St Clair, since the barbarians did not kill ye the last time ye were in this outlandish place, ye will probably get away with going inside the chapel while I wait for ye outside.”

So far, St Clair had proved himself a real knight—courteous and gentlemanly. He didnae disappoint. “And what of Brodwyn? Who will care for her while we go to the wedding?” he questioned, a wide smile curling about his narrow lips.

“She is closer to those lads than I ever was. If they’ll go with anyone it will be her, and I very much doubt the twins will be in the chapel, which makes our arrival most opportune. Brodwyn can look for the twins.” Without another word, he strode into the upper Bailey, leaving St Clair and her to follow at his heels the way his hunting dogs did. If anything was designed to make her rethink the purpose for her being here, it was that.

As the Keep rose up afore her—tall, grey with crenulations piercing the heights—she remembered her months of living there by Astrid’s side. Compared to what lay ahead of her and the bairn she carried, her life hadn’t been that bad. On her last day here, she had ridden away accompanied by two housecarls in the pretence of being anxious to take the news of Astrid’s bairn’s imminent arrival to Dun Bhuird.

Truthfully, she had been scared. She had seen the graves on the brae looking out to sea—the places where Euan’s last two wives rested after falling under the curse’s mantle—and she had nae reason to believe Astrid would survive. She had been right. Astrid hadn’t been long in joining them on the brae. While Erik the Bear left Dun Bhuird with a big smile on his face, she had stayed behind, had claimed to be over-tired instead of fearful of what awaited them at Cragenlaw. She had a right to be afraid. Astrid’s death had begun a war betwixt the clans and more; Morag Farquhar’s brother had become involved in the fight as well, intent on ridding the world of any potential claimants to the Barony at Wolfsdale—his brother Doughall included.

Bad days.

What if Henry’s craving for his heirs—heir, for Harry was the lad he craved… What if his intent to reclaim Harry made this day the beginning of another conflict?

Feelings of anxiety stirred in her breast. With her bairn beginning to move inside her belly, her primal instinct was to protect it; and surely that could be better done in Scotland than in England.

Rob could feel Nhaimeth was nervous, a natural enough emotion unless, like he had been, ye were simply determined to get a ring on her finger and the thing over and done, with nae arguments frae the bride.

As he stood beside his friend, looking at the number of guests beginning to fill the rows of wooden benches on each side of the chapel, he realised that he had robbed Melinda of the pleasure Rowena would have on this, her wedding day. It seemed daft to even consider getting wed again, though mayhap a blessing on the anniversary of the day they were wed would help to make up for having high-handedly marched the woman he loved up the aisle. Nobly born folk didnae commonly marry for love; they married for convenience, as Euan McArthur had three times, yet Rob kenned fine it plagued his father’s conscience that they had all died because of the curse.

That didnae mean Rob didnae wonder if it was all meant to be—all part of this mystical plan the Green Lady had fashioned for his family and the many generations following them. What would have happened to him if his father had already had an heir born to his legal wife? After all, he was born long afore Euan had been cursed.

He shook his head slightly in an effort to clear it of useless thought. How many times would he let this conundrum baffle him? The die had been cast and the story would unfold come what may. The next step had to be protecting the twins, but for how long? He couldn’t see them being content to stay within the thick grey walls of Cragenlaw. If this prophecy would be carried down the generations, it would certainly be part of his job as a father to control his sons, and if they went on as they had begun, the wee rascals would run him ragged for more years than he cared to think. His task, if he put if like that, would be to keep them safe at least until they were wed and had bairns of their own. He felt auld just thinking on it.

His calculations were interrupted by a commotion at the entrance. Rob could see Melinda because of her taller stature. She and Guaril would escort Rowena down the aisle. Guaril, as the nearest to a relative she had, would give Rowena away to Nhaimeth.

“Time for us to take our places,” he mentioned to Nhaimeth with the mere suggestion of a wink in case the Celtic priest had his eye on them and disapproved of frivolity.

Now they were facing the door, he could see all his friends and extended family. Gavyn’s son, Rory, was in truth named after Rob, but the lad had decided one Rob in the family was enough. He stood tall beside his father, though he could hardly be more than nine years now; if they hadn’t rescued Kathryn frae that burning broch, he might never have existed, nor his wee sister, Lhilidh. It did Rob’s heart guid to ken her name would go on. Jamie Ruthven’s son Arthur and his tiny sister Morag were both in the chapel. It made him wish he had brought Harry and Ralf with them instead of leaving them in Becky’s care until the wedding feast began. The food in the Great Hall would be fine and fancy, while outside he could already smell the beast turning on a spit to one side of the lower Bailey for the clansmen to share. Later, if he had a chance, he would join them to listen to the pipes and watch the dancing. Mayhap he would even take both lads; they would enjoy the fine spectacle.

Once again he wished he hadn’t left them behind—left them to another’s care—but with both him and Melinda taking part in the wedding ceremony, it wasnae possible. In the front row, his mother and father rose as the bride entered the church. Both were smiling.

Suddenly something turned over in his chest that he wanted to rub away. The ache pained him yet was tinged with sadness, and for a moment he wished he had let Euan and Morag tend the twins. Then the bride reached the front of the church and the moment passed.