Scottish Highlands, Yuletide, December 1521

SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS, YULETIDE, DECEMBER 1521

W ind whistled down the chimney as Laird Fletcher struggled to pull a heavy tartan plaid over his withered leg. Most of the clan remained in the great hall after the evening meal. Deep mid-winter darkness had fallen hours ago and it seemed to Caitrin that no one was eager to leave the bright warmth of the hall or each others' company.

"Let me get that for ye."Caitrinset aside her needlework and stood. She hated to see her father fret, and in his condition, he must be kept warm.

"Wheesht, Daughter. I'm no' helpless." He righted the cover and settled back into his chair set before the merrily dancing flames in the Fletcher great hall's hearth. "'Tis only that I feel in my bones a storm's coming. Have we any word yet?"

His wife Lady Madeleine's absence had troubled Fletcher all the weeks she'd been gone. As the highland winter deepened into unrelenting cold and dark, he seemed to shrink in on himself. Caitrin and her husband, Jamie Lathan, did what they could to keep him active and involved in running the clan, but it was clear the Fletcher's days in charge were numbered, and the burdens she and Jamie bore for him would soon be theirs in truth.

Caitrin frowned at her father, whose gaze had returned to the fire in the hearth. She turned to Jamie and shrugged. Da's moods shifted like those of a bairn. Jamie had a way with him, and she wanted him to keep her da calm.

Jamie nodded and got up from his seat to stir the fire. "Ye need no' fash . Lady Madeleine will be home before ye ken it."

"If the storm brings snow, she might be forced to turn back."

"A little snow willna stop her returning to ye," Caitrin told him.

Jamie set aside the wrought iron poker and turned to face his father-in-law. "And just think, soon the days will lengthen into spring."

"Ach, there's the innocence of youth," Fletcher groused. "We've the darkest part of winter before us." His eyes drifted closed. "Ah, but I recall the Beltane fires of my own youth," he added with a lift to the corners of his mouth. "Such revelry after a long, bleak winter. 'Tis a shame I didna ken Madeleine in those days."

Caitrin's heart lifted. He'd thought of something that pleased him. "Ye wouldha' made quite a pair." And perhaps all the misery at MacGregor that had happened in the years since would not have occurred. She forced herself to set that thought aside. "And we've a celebration ye can enjoy much sooner than Beltane," she reminded him.

"But what if she arrives too late?"

"Lady Madeleine willna disappoint ye, Da." Caitrin had to believe that. Fletcher was the Lady's family now, not MacGregor. Hoping to divert her father again, Caitrin said, "Jamie and Will and some of the other men are going to bring in the Yule log tomorrow. My ladies and I will gather greens to scent the hall with pine and fir."

"And mistletoe?"

"Aye, of course." Caitrin put a hand on his shoulder, leaned down and kissed the top of his dear head. Would her father ever recover from the darkness they'd suffered? Even though Lady Madeleine's evil son, the former Laird MacGregor, was dead by his own wicked hand these three years past, Fletcher still bore the guilt of making Caitrin known to him. She was grateful that despite the scars she bore from those awful days, they'd survived. And they'd gained a blessing in Lady Madeleine's marriage to her father. "Ye have always loved Yuletide, Da. Dinna rush past it in yer longing for spring."

He snorted and slapped the arm of his chair. "I'll enjoy it when my wife is again safely by my side."

The next afternoon, laughter filled the great hall as Jamie, Will, and six other men struggled to carry in the massive Yule log. A phalanx of lads and the women of the clan lined their route from the keep's heavy oaken door to the hearth, where a low fire had burned to glowing coals. Fir and holly branches woven together with bright red ribbons covered the long mantle and decorated the center of the hall's trestle tables. Beribboned balls of mistletoe hung in every arch.

Fletcher stood by the keep's open door, peering out into the bailey. "Did anyone see my wife out there?" Absently, he rubbed at his leg. "I can tell there's a storm on the way."

"She'll be along later," Jamie said as he passed, hoping that was true. "Dinna drop this beast!" He admonished as one of the other men shifted his grip on the log—actually the trunk of a birch tree. "Yer toes will never be the same." He made sure his grip was firm, then glanced back to the door. Fletcher still stood vigil. Grimly, Jamie nodded to one of the lads standing nearby. "Close that or the hall willnever warm." Then Jamie called for Fletcher to join them.

They reached the hearth and lowered their burden before dropping it. Still, the thud seemed to shake the very walls.

Another thud followed as the keep's heavy oaken door slammed shut. Fletcher left his post to join the men standing in front of the hearth. "Is it ready to light?"

"'Tis dry enough, " Jamie replied. "As soon as the lasses carve the last symbols, we'll be ready to push it into the hearth and for ye to put the torch to it."

"We should wait for Madeleine. Ye ken she loves the Yuletide rituals."

"We'll do as ye wish, Laird, but do ye think 'twould be better for her to come home to a warm hearth?"

"Of course. Of course. 'Tis bitter cold outside. Get on with it, lad," Fletcher agreed and waved a hand.

Jamie bent to work and kept his smile of satisfaction to himself, pleased with the number of people lingering in the hall after the midday meal. Fletcher had done just as he'd hoped and given a clear order. The longer the others in the clan saw Fletcher as still in charge and not the anxious, weakened man he was becoming, the better for all.

"My wife will be here soon and the hall must be warm and ready," Fletcher went on while he watched the preparations continue. "Has Cook made honey cakes? They're her favorites."

"Aye, Laird. I believe she has." Jamie hoped so. He gestured for the lasses to begin carving symbols sacred to the old gods and goddesses on the log. They were meant to ward away evil and bring good luck and a good harvest.

Jamie went to fetch the torch made from the remains of last year's Yule log from its place of honor under the laird's bed. By the time he returned, all was ready.

The men shoved the end of the log onto the glowing coals.

Jamie poured a cup of wine over it, careful to spread it along the part of the trunk's length within the hearth and not let it drip into the coals to flare up. As the log burned over the next dozen days, men would shove it further into the fire.

He lit the torch he'd retrieved in the embers around the log and handed it to Fletcher. "'Tis yer hall, Laird Fletcher, so yer place to bring the clan good luck in the new year."

"Aye." Fletcher took the burning torch and put flame to the log. The wine flared up immediately, then the embers around the log did, too. Once the dry wood caught fully, he laid the torch onto it and turned to face the people gathered around him. "A wee dram for all, to celebrate!"

Caitrin led a small procession of serving lasses from the kitchen, each carrying a tray of cups and a jug of good MacKyrie whisky, which they set on the tables nearest the hearth. She filled a cup for her father, then another she offered to Jamie. He accepted it with a smile, but her brows drew together. "She's still no' here." She kept her voice low. "I'm worried, Jamie. Lady Madeleine should definitely have arrived by now, even given the weather."

Jamie saw the concern in her eyes. "He keeps asking for her."

Caitrin looked toward the windows. "'Twill be dark soon. Likely her escort will make camp for the night. Should we send a rider out to meet them?"

"We dinna ken how close they might be. Lady Madeleine promised to be back for Yule. We have to believe she will. If the storm breaks tonight, a man alone will be in danger."

Caitrin nodded, but her frown deepened, her gaze on her father. "If only she were here, he would calm."

Fletcher, drink in hand, paced by a window that looked out into the bailey. "I heard something. Did anyone hear someone out there?" He rubbed at the glass. "I canna see through the fog on this pane." He tossed off his whisky and resumed staring at the window.

"I wish there was something we could do," Caitrin said.

Jamie nodded to the bottle she held. "Pour him another. Maybe that will soothe him. We dinna want him to leave the hall to wait for her outside."

Caitrin nodded and went to her father. She spoke softly to him, took his elbow, and led him to his seat by the hearth.

Jamie joined them as she added a splash of whisky to her father's cup. The log was burning merrily, throwing off enough heat to make the area near the hearth comfortable.

Cook's lasses filed out of the kitchen again, this time to set the evening meal on the tables.

Jamie took Caitrin's arm. "Shall we?" He escorted her to her place, but kept an eye on Fletcher's progress.

After they finished the meal, they again settled by the hearth, whisky to hand. The storm Fletcher predicted had arrived and was gaining strength. Rain and sleet lashed the windows.

Suddenly, the keep's door blew open with a blast of cold, damp air. Jamie hurried to close it but stopped as Lady Madeleine appeared in the doorway out of the darkness of the bailey, shaking raindrops from her cloak.

"Thank the saints, ye have returned." Jamie wrapped her in a hug, careless of her damp condition, then released her and closed the door. "We've missed ye," he told her, "more than ye ken."

"I've missed all of ye. How has he been?"

A quick glance aside showed him Fletcher dozing in his chair, no doubt succumbing to the warmth, food, and the whisky. "He'll be glad to see ye." Jamie paused and frowned. "He's had more of his lapses during yer absence."

Lady Madeleine returned his frown. "I feared that. Well, now I'm home, he'll improve. I'll see to it. We canna have him causing Caitrin to fash . 'Tis a happy time of year."

"Thank ye," Jamie told her softly and bent to kiss her cheek. "Ye are good for all of us, no' just the Fletcher."

"Ye are a charming man, Jamie Lathan," She patted his cheek, then stepped away and moved toward her husband.

Jamie walked with her. "Is yer escort in the stable?"

"Nay," she answered. "My MacGregor escort delivered me through the gate into the care of the stable master, and then turned for home."

Jamie frowned. "In this storm? They were welcome to stay?—"

"Aye, they kenned it, but didna mind the rain. They have their own Yuletide celebrations to enjoy. Without me to care for, they'll ride fast, even if the rain turns to snow. 'Tis certainly cold enough." She shivered, then smiled. "The Yule log! How wonderful! At the door, the tables hid it from view."

Her pleasure was contagious, and her presence lifted Jamie's spirits. "Wonderful and heavy," he quipped. He beckoned the men who'd helped him carry it.

Lady Madeleine's gaze lingered on each as she thanked them. "'Twould no' be Yuletide without a great log burning in the hearth."

The men responded with smiles and nods, then scattered away.

She glanced around and nodded toward her husband. Fletcher's chin rested on his chest. "I hate to wake him." He snored, and she chuckled, then she headed for her husband. "Fletcher, I'm home! What sort of greeting is this, ye dozing before the fire?"

Fletcher spluttered awake, blinked and smiled up at his wife. "Am I dreaming?"

"Nay, husband. I've come back to ye."

Fletcher reached out and pulled her onto his lap. "'Tis about time, woman. Where have ye been?" He kissed her, then kissed her again until she melted against him.

"Gone too long, I see," she replied with a smile.

"Ye can make it up to me in our chamber," he suggested with more vigor than he'd shown in weeks.

Madeleine stood and held out her hand. "Come along, then," she said and gave him a grin.

Jamie chuckled at their antics. Despite their ages and Fletcher's infirmity, even after three years of marriage, they could still be mistaken for much younger lovers.

"Ah, praise the saints," Caitrin said, coming up behind Jamie. She wrapped a hand around his arm and leaned into him. "She's back. Da will enjoy the Yule much more with her by his side."

"Now that she's here to take some of that burden from yer shoulders, so will ye."

"He is lucky to have her affection," Caitrin added, her gaze still on the older couple as they climbed the stairs. "'Tis hard to credit her son was such a madman."

"Dinna dwell on those days. As the Lady just told me, 'tis a happy time of year. Soon enough, scents will fill the hall, from yer garlands and from the treats Cook is baking in the kitchen. We will celebrate the year past and our hopes for the future." He smiled as Caitrin's free hand settled low on her belly.

"I hope all that celebrating includes some private time of our own." Caitrin rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. "Or I'll no' be happy at all."

"Ach, lass," Jamie said, turning to wrap her in his arms, "I plan to keep ye verra, verra happy."

Caitrin rested her head on his shoulder and tunneled her fingers into his hair. "I love ye, Jamie Lathan."

"And I, ye, lass. Never ye doubt it."

She lifted her head and leaned back to meet his dark gaze. "I never will. Ye tell me every day, with yer words, yer touch, yer kiss…"

He lowered his head and took her mouth, not caring who might remain in the hall to see them. Then he swept her up into his arms and mounted the stairs, smiling as Caitrin laughed.

As they passed a window in the upper hall near their chamber, she sighed. "Ah, look! 'Tis snowing now. 'Twill be a wonderful Yule," she told him.

"Aye, 'twill. Starting now."

Several hours later, someone pounding on the door of Jamie and Caitrin's chamber roused them both.

"This canna be good," Caitrin muttered and pulled the covers up to her chin. She wasn't one to wake up quickly—certainly not at this hour.

Jamie pulled a shirt over his head and hurried to the door. "Naught good ever came of someone pounding on the door in the middle of the night," he grumbled over his shoulder before he opened it and heard what the man who'd disturbed them had to say.

Caitrin struggled to overhear. Was her da ill? Or someone else in the keep? Ach, nay, had the Yule log sparked a blaze in the great hall? Nay, that couldn't be it. There would be more of an alarm than one man at the door. Nay, someone had arrived at the gate out of the dark and snow.

"Let them in the keep, man. Put them by the fire in the great hall. And get them a wee dram and something hot to drink," Jamie said, closed the door and turned back to her. "Lady Madeleine's escort came back, but one of their men got lost in the snowstorm. We're going to have to go search for him."

"Ach, nay." Caitrin's stomach sank. She sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed. "Did they have any idea where they lost him?" She shook her head and sighed. "Daft question. If they did, they'd have brought him with them, aye?" She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

Jamie grinned at that. "They would." He began dressing for cold weather.

Caitrin yawned again, got up, pulled a dress over her undershift and boots over her stockinged feet. After she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, she bent to stoke the fire while Jamie collected his weapons. "How many men are ye taking with ye?"

"Twenty Fletchers who've grown up running around the countryside. They'll ken where a man might have come to trouble."

"They will. But in the dark? In a snowstorm?"

"It canna be helped. If he's hurt, the man may freeze to death before sunrise." He went to the window and pulled aside the heavy cover. "Which should be in about six hours. On the one hand, 'tis good they didna get far in this storm. On the other, damn it, we could be searching in the dark for hours."

"Ye will take food and drink and blankets, aye?" Caitrin ordered. "I'll go rouse the kitchen while ye gather the men. Do ye think I should wake Lady Madeleine?"

"Nay, let her sleep. We'll ken more by morning. Until then, all she can do is wait and fret."

Caitrin saw the sense of that, nodded, and headed downstairs, Jamie on her heels.

The men left within minutes, the restored MacGregor men each paired with two Fletchers. Jamie believed their presence would hasten the search, as they could lead his men back to the point at which they decided to turn back and realized one of their men was missing.

Caitrin watched them ride out from the open door of the keep, her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders, but she shivered nonetheless as snowflakes swirled and danced in the frigid air. "Come back soon," she whispered as Jamie passed through the gates, then stepped back inside and pushed the heavy door shut.

She turned around with the intention of sitting by the fire to warm herself but found Lady Madeleine standing in her way.

"What happened?"

Caitrin wanted to make up a tale that had nothing to do with MacGregor men, but she couldn't do that to this woman, who had lived most of her life with men lying to her. The truth would upset her, but she deserved no less.

"Yer escort came back, but one man is lost in the storm. Jamie has taken them and twenty Fletchers out to find him."

Lady Madeleine raised a hand to her throat. "Who is lost?"

"A man named Magnus."

"Ach, nay!"

She paled so suddenly that Caitrin feared she might fall to her knees, so she grabbed her arm and put her other arm around her shoulders. "Come, let's get ye seated and ye can tell me about him."

Madeleine nodded and let Caitrin guide her to a seat near the hearth.

Caitrin sent a serving lass dozing by the fire to the kitchen for warm cider and some bread and cheese. Once the food arrived and Lady Madeleine's pallor had eased, Caitrin urged her to talk.

"Magnus, the missing man, is a favorite of mine," she related. "I met him when he was a young guardsman. He supported me while my son was still alive, at some risk to himself."

"I'm so sorry," Caitrin said when she stopped for a sip of her cider. She suspected Madeleine was being circumspect. Crossing her late son would have meant a great risk of a painful death.

"I would feel the same for any of those men who escorted me here. They all were special to me. They protected me while my son terrorized the women of the clan. Magnus was young enough at first for Alasdair to feel he could torment him with impunity, but I put my foot down and for once Alasdair obeyed me. Or if he didna, Magnus never complained to me about his treatment. At any rate, we looked out for each other, and as he got older and stronger, after he was in no more danger than any other MacGregor man, he never stopped being special to me."

Caitrin reached across and clasped her hand. "Ye ken they will find him."

"But will they find him alive?"

"It hasna been so very long. The men were dressed for the weather. I'm sure he simply got separated from yer other men. Perhaps he continued on toward home."

Madeleine nodded. "I hope ye are right, lass."

"The sun will be up in a few hours. Ye should sleep a few hours more," Caitrin suggested.

"Nay, I couldna. Ye go back to bed, lass. I'll stay here by the fire for a wee, then go help Cook in the kitchen. The lads will be hungry and cold when they return. We should have a good hot meal waiting for them."

"Ye need yer rest, Madeleine."

"So do ye, lass. I am old enough that I dinna sleep verra much, so it will do me nay harm to wait here until the rest of the keep rouses. Now go on with ye, aye?"

Caitrin went, but she knew she wouldn't sleep. Instead, she checked on her father, who hadn't roused to the commotion, then in her chamber removed her hastily donned clothes and dressed properly for the day. They would be busy, as Madeleine had said, preparing for the men's return, and there was much to do.

When she went back downstairs, she saw that Madeleine had dozed off in front of the fire. Caitrin left her there and as quietly as she could, opened the keep's door, went out into the snow-covered bailey and made her way carefully across it to the stable.

Two of the stable lads were up and already clearing stalls for the MacGregor horses. They had food and water at hand, as well as brushes and rags to rub down the horses and warm them once they arrived.

"Good lads!" Caitrin praised them. "I should have kenned ye would be making ready."

"Do ye think they'll return soon?" The younger of the lads asked, and the older one nodded his agreement with the question.

"We all hope so, aye?"

"Aye, we do," the other lad answered. "We'll have everything settled to care for their mounts when they arrive."

"Thank ye both. Should I rouse the stable master?"

"Nay, Lady Caitrin. We will be ready by the time he wakes."

"Very good, then. I'll leave ye to it."

"Do ye want us to escort ye across the bailey? It will be slippery," the younger lad offered.

"Thank ye, but ye have important work to do here. I will take care."

Caitrin left them to their work, proud that they were so conscientious. The stable master had trained them well. She would tell him later in the morning about their efforts.

By the time she made her way back into the great hall, Lady Madeleine was gone. She found her, true to her word, in the kitchen, wielding a knife, cutting up meat for a stew, from the look of the other ingredients piled on the worktable around her.

Cook nodded a greeting as Caitrin surveyed the scene. The kitchen lasses were making bread and preparing a pot of porridge. Cook was cutting up more vegetables for Madeleine's stew. They had things well in hand, so Caitrin left them to go about her normal day's duties.

Breakfast passed uneventfully, but two MacGregors arrived with a Fletcher escort soon after the midday meal. Caitrin needed only a glance to see they were exhausted and half frozen. She ordered the MacGregors to the healer for care, and took the Fletcher to her solar for his report.

"The snow is blinding, Lady Fletcher," the man told her. "Those men didna want to come in, but they were near to falling from their mounts by the time we reached the stable."

"They escorted Lady Madeleine from MacGregor, then turned immediately for home. Then rode back here and out again. No wonder they're spent. Ye havena found the missing man, then?"

He shook his head. "Nay, lady. Our lads are still trying, but may have to bring the rest of the MacGregors back here soon."

Caitrin nodded. They were all hardened warriors, but midwinter was upon them. "They'll be welcome and we'll care for them as they need." She wanted to ask about Jamie, but surely this man would mention him if there was anything she needed to know. "Very well, go get some hot food and some sleep. I hope the rest will return successfully soon, and ye willna need to go back out."

He thanked her and left her solar. She remained at her desk, deep in thought. Where along their route could a man have gotten so thoroughly lost?

Jamie followed a ridge that led down to the next glen, cold but determined to keep going. Snow still swirled around him, all but blinding him to his surroundings. A man unfamiliar with the lay of the land might easily have confused this for the route the others took and gotten separated. But he recognized this ridge, and his mount knew it, too. They went slowly, careful of obstructions that might prove to be a hazard—or a body. Slick spots worried Jamie the most, but his horse was sure-footed and as long as they descended with care, it would keep to the track they followed.

Jamie was losing hope of finding the missing man. If he hadn't gone this way, and no one else reported finding him, he would have to assume the man had succeeded in reaching MacGregor separate from his other escorts, or else they would find his body, or what was left of it, after the snow melted.

Lady Madeleine would be devastated. So would Caitrin, for her sake, and for the man's. His loss would spoil the Yule celebration for two clans.

The track leveled off at the glen below it and Jamie paused. The man could have gone anywhere from here. Across the glen. Along it. Or he had never been here at all.

Jamie was tempted to turn back. Caitrin would be furious to hear he, too, had gotten separated from the men he was supposed to be riding with. He wasn't certain when or where exactly it had happened. He'd been so intent on the search, he hadn't noticed he was alone until he reached this ridge.

The others knew his reputation as a Lathan scout. They were counting on him to be the one to find the missing man, and he'd let himself wander away from them. He shook his head. Go back? Or go forward?

A weak cry made the decision for him. Forward, slowly.

"Magnus!" Jamie called the man's name several times, but heard no response. Had he imagined the earlier cry? He didn't think so.

Ahead, through the swirling snow Jamie spotted a large pine. Its branches spread over a clear patch around its base, keeping the snow from reaching the ground. Was there something there? He urged his mount closer, slid off and ducked under the branches onto a carpet of needles. A man lay there, shivering, partly buried in the needles he'd clearly tried to form into a blanket.

"Magnus?" Jamie dropped to his side.

The man's eyes opened, then widened. "Ye found me. I thought I'd die here."

"Where's yer mount, man?"

"Scared off by a pack of wolves. Threw me, but the wolves chased the horse or I'd be dead now."

"Are ye hurt?"

"Aye. Leg, shoulder, wrist. Maybe more. So cold, I canna feel much."

"A blessing then. Let's get ye up and on the way back to Fletcher."

"Aye," Magnus answered, but the attempt to stand was more than he could bear. He choked on a scream and passed out.

Magnus wasn't as heavily muscled as Jamie, nor as tall. Jamie caught him and lifted him into his arms like a child, carried him to his horse, then stopped. How would he secure the man up there? He looked around for something the horse could get close to that would allow Jamie to mount, then pull Magnus up, but the only thing he could see through the snow was the pine, and its branches draped too low to be helpful. If Magnus was conscious, perhaps he could stand and hold on to a branch long enough for Jamie to reach for him from atop his horse, but nay. No sense wasting time thinking about it, not until Magnus woke up—if he ever did.

Jamie remembered one of the Fletchers pointing out caves in the wall of the ridge he'd just come down. One he recalled had an opening that he thought his horse would fit through. The others he'd seen were too low, though they were supposed to widen past the entrance. He could carry Magnus that far, get him under cover and warm, then go for help.

Jamie trudged through the snow covered glen, leading his horse, Magnus a dead weight in his arms. "Dinna ye die on me, man. I'll nay carry ye so far to find ye gone, I willna!"

Another day had passed and Caitrin's hope was fading. The searchers had been out the entire day and returned after dark the night before but without the missing man, and worse, without Jamie. She had consoled herself that Jamie was a formidable man, and if he'd found Magnus, surely he'd sheltered with him and kept him somewhere safe overnight. She'd expected him to ride up to the Fletcher gate at any time during the day, but he hadn't.

More men had gone out before sunrise to look for him, helped by the snowstorm blowing itself out overnight. Clouds and fog persisted, but they thinned late in the day and weak midwinter sunlight pierced them in a few places.

Where was Jamie? Why wasn't he home? Yuletide was no time to be away. She wanted him here. She needed him here.

The entire clan was walking on their toes around her, and she knew it, but anxiety, nay, fear kept her short-tempered and pacing. She'd tried hiding out in her solar, but she'd felt confined in there. Yet the great hall seemed cavernous and sad, so she'd walked the bailey, even gone to the stables several times with the intent to ride out herself, but common sense held her back. There were men out looking for Jamie and the missing man. She would not add to their burdens. And the clan could not withstand the sudden loss of both her and Jamie, not with her da in his condition. They were needed here. She was needed here, and she needed Jamie.

Madeleine cornered her in the great hall just before the evening meal. "Ye must calm yerself, lass. Ye are upsetting everyone else."

"How can I? Jamie is out there somewhere. He should have come back today. The storm is over. Where is he?" She wrung her hands, her distress overwhelming her, forcing her to fight back tears. "Why isna he home?"

"He will be lass. Ye must cling to that thought, as I do for Magnus's sake, and for Jamie's. They will be home. If not tonight, then tomorrow. They will arrive, or the searchers will find them and bring them home."

"Alive?" Caitrin choked on the word.

"Aye, lass. 'Tis cold outside, but 'tis naught they havena borne many times through travel and in battle. Jamie kens what to do, even if Magnus is injured."

"What if they both are?"

"Then our men will find them. Cling to that. Now calm yerself and take yer place at the head table with yer da and me."

Caitrin nodded and did as she was bid. She made it through the meal, doing her best to ignore the sympathetic glances and subdued murmur of conversation in the hall. As soon as her da stood to go, she did as well and returned to her chamber where she paced through the night, dozing only when her legs would not support her any longer.

Bright sunlight woke her. It was morning! Were they back? Or had the searchers gone out again? Why had she heard nothing in the bailey?

The faces in the great hall told her before she had to ask. Men had gone out again. Caitrin went back upstairs and changed into riding clothes, rolled up several plaids and carried them with her down the stairs. She was headed to the kitchen to get food and cider when Madeleine intercepted her.

"Where do ye think ye are going?"

"Ye ken where I am going or ye wouldna have stopped me."

"Lass, I ken ye are worried for Jamie, and for a future without him, especially now that yer da can nay longer assume his duties as he once did. But what if Jamie returns and ye are no' here? What do ye think that will do to him? Ye must do the hardest part and wait."

"I have been waiting. I canna any longer. I must find him."

"Do ye trust yer husband? The greatest Lathan scout?"

"I do, but?—"

"Nay, dinna finish that sentence. Ye trust him. Ye ken he is well and will return—with my guardsman—as soon as he can."

"I ken ye believe what ye are telling me. I want to believe it, too."

"Then do what ye can. Help yer da. Set an example for the clan that will reassure them."

Madeleine was worried for the men, too. Caitrin was being selfish, lost in her own fears and paying no attention to anyone else, or to the effect she was having on them.

"Ye are right, of course," Caitrin told her. She set aside her plaids and went back to the kitchen to ensure plenty of food would be out soon for all of those waiting for the return of their men.

She noticed a lass in the corner by the hearth, head in her hands. As she approached, she could see the lass was crying, and closer, below the tabletop, it became clear the lass was expecting—and soon. "Dinna fash ," she told her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What can I get for ye? Have ye broken yer fast?"

The lass lifted her head and her eyes widened. "My lady!"

"Forget that for now. Have ye eaten anything?"

The lass shook her head and Caitrin signaled to a serving lass to bring food and drink. "Ye ken I'm waiting for my husband," Caitrin told her, sitting next to her on the bench. "Who are ye waiting for?"

"My husband went out into that storm. I fear he willna come back and I will have to care for our bairn alone." She rubbed a hand over her belly.

Caitrin nodded. "We all fear for our men, but they are well used to being out in weather like this. When is yer bairn due?"

"Any day now," the lass admitted and fresh tears trailed down her cheeks. "My mother is in our croft. I came with my husband, and now I canna get back."

"The healer is here should ye have need of her. Ye will be well cared for, no matter when the men return."

"Thank ye, milady."

"Ah, here is yer food," Caitrin said as a serving lass brought a steaming bowl of parritch, some bread, cheese and an apple. "I will leave ye to enjoy it."

"Ye are kind, milady," the lass told her. "Ye have helped me to feel better."

"Then eat, lass." She stood and patted the young woman's shoulder. "I will check on ye later, but ye have only to ask anyone if ye need help."

Caitrin straightened and caught Madeleine watching her. The older woman smiled, making Caitrin feel as though she'd learned the lesson Madeleine had been trying to teach her. Caitrin nodded and moved to the next table and the next, simply talking to her people, showing them she was with them and helping where she could.

The clan could no longer count on her father. She had to be the one they could have confidence in—with or without Jamie Lathan.

Hours later, an excited rumble of voices in the great hall drew Caitrin out from the herbal where she had gone to check with the healer on the lass she'd met at the midday meal.

The door was open and people were bustling through it into the gloaming, while frigid air streamed from the bailey around them and into the keep.

Voices shouted, "They're back!"

Who was back? The searchers had come and gone several times without this level of enthusiasm. Could they have found the missing men? Jamie?

She ran past several people and slipped out the door next to another man in time to see Jamie dismount and turn to notice her.

"Get the healer!" His shout rang out and echoed off of the keep's cold stone walls.

Caitrin had never heard a sweeter sound. Her heart in her throat, she grabbed the man nearest her and sent him back inside. "Hurry!" Then she ran across the bailey and wrapped Jamie in her arms.

He caught her as she cried, "Where have ye been?" She buried her face in his neck as she clung to him, inhaling his scent and thanking the saints he was home. "Are ye well?" She loosened her hold and looked him up and down. His hair was matted and his skin reddened from the cold, but she didn't see any blood. All her fear and anxiety fled when she realized he was not injured. Exhausted, probably hungry, but unhurt.

"I'll tell all when we get inside. Magnus needs the healer. He'll be with us for weeks while he recovers." He hugged her to him and turned so they could watch the men carrying the one who must be Magnus in a sling they'd rigged from several plaids.

She and Jamie followed them inside, where the healer met them. After one look at the man they carried, she waved them toward the herbal and walked along with her patient, checking on him as they went.

Caitrin's father and Lady Madeleine joined them there while Jamie explained to the healer what he knew of the man's injuries and their cause. Hearing the litany, Caitrin marveled that Jamie had kept him alive for several days.

Her da turned to Jamie. "Well done, lad, though ye worried us all."

"I ken it, Laird, and I'm sorry for it, but I dared no' leave him, and I couldna bring him by myself without doing him more harm. We had to wait for the weather to clear for someone to see the smoke of our fire and find us."

"Dinna be sorry," Madeleine answered, stepping forward to put a grateful hand on his arm. "Ye brought him back to us."

Once the healer dismissed them, they returned to the great hall, but Laird Fletcher and Lady Madeleine continued upstairs. Caitrin and Jamie sat at a table near the hearth and signaled for food and drink. While they waited, people kept coming by to say how relieved and happy they were to have both of them back. Jamie thanked each one, giving them his complete attention until the next person approached. Finally, their food arrived and the parade ebbed.

Caitrin took Jamie's hand. "Tell me."

While they enjoyed their meal, Jamie filled her in. "He got separated from his men in the snowstorm. Wolves spooked his horse, and it threw him. Lucky for him, the wolves chased the horse."

"Maybe not so lucky for the horse," Caitrin commented wryly.

Jamie shrugged. "I found him under a pine, with all the injuries ye heard me tell the healer. He passed out when I tried to move him, which helped. I got him into a cave nearby that Fletcher men had shown me on patrol several months ago. The opening was large enough for the horse to squeeze through, too. A fire, blankets and my horse blocking the wind kept us from freezing. We ate what I had packed in the first two days. I gave him all the wine for his pain, and I hunted. That and melted snow kept us going until the men arrived. The storm kept anyone from seeing the smoke from our fire. This morning, they finally did."

"Ach, Jamie, ye must be exhausted."

"Aye, and in need of a bath." He made a show of looking around. "Perhaps I could convince one of these serving lasses to help me with that…?"

"Jamie Lathan! Ye willna." Caitrin ordered the tub and hot water to be carried to their chamber while Jamie finished eating.

Once Jamie ate, he insisted on seeing what progress the healer had made with Magnus. Her ministrations satisfied him that the man was in good hands, though he wished Aileanna were here to attend him. Magnus would be healed and on his feet in days with the Lathan healer's special talent. The Fletcher healer was doing her best, but Magnus would have a long and painful recovery.

Jamie let Caitrin usher him upstairs to their chamber and the waiting tub, steam rising from its surface beckoning to him nearly as strongly as the sight of their bed. And Caitrin.

"Lass…"

"Clean first, then we'll see about everything else, husband." She grinned to soften her words, but he had no doubt he wouldn't change her mind. She was bent on taking care of him, and relaxing in a hot tub was always high on her own list.

Still, he had to try. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him for a kiss. She clung to him, heedless now of the dirt and smoke stench of his days in the cave. Her head lifted, giving him access to her throat, telling him she wanted more. He deepened the kiss, his need for her becoming more and more heated as she gave voice to soft cries and caressed his face. He thought he might be making progress until he realized Caitrin's face was wet with tears.

"Lass!" This time, his tone was quite different from when he'd said the word only moments before. "What fashes ye? I'm here, safe and sound, love."

"I thought I'd lost ye," she admitted, her gaze on his chest. She lifted her reddened eyes. "All I could think of was how could I go on without ye? How could I be the clan's laird without ye at my side?"

"Ye dinna have to. I'll be by yer side."

"Ye'd best always be!"

He chuckled, but she frowned.

"I will be with ye, Caitrin. I will never willingly leave ye. Ye ken that."

"I thought I did." She set about removing his soiled clothing and tossing it aside. "I ken ye will have to go away from me at times. But I hope in those times I will ken where ye are and that ye are warm and safe."

Once he was bare, she gave him a hungry look, but pointed toward the tub. "In."

"Yes, my laird," he answered and obeyed, but a smile played around the corners of his lips. "Ye ken 'tis almost the Yule."

"Of course, I do. I've been counting the hours while ye were gone. Lady Madeleine kept me from riding out, joining the search for ye."

"Thank the saints for Lady Madeleine. I wouldna have been able to live with myself had ye disappeared." He paused and cupped her cheek. "I'm sorry I had to leave ye."

"I ken ye are, love. She reminded me, too, of what it would mean to ye if I got lost. She talked me out of going, and she was right. My place is here, helping da. And yers is here helping me."

"And the clan, lass."

"I ken it." She picked up a cloth and a bit of soap and began washing him.

Jamie leaned back in the tub with a sigh of contentment. "This is almost worth all the time I spent in that cold cave."

"Almost? What could possibly be worth more than saving poor Magnus's life?"

"This!" Jamie said and, grabbing her arms, pulled her into the tub with him.

Caitrin shrieked, but then she laughed and Jamie laughed with her.

All was well. He was home, everyone was safe, and Yuletide would proceed with relief and gratitude. And especially, with joy.