Chapter 21

I zzy breathed deeply of the crisp, fresh air. Around her, the Highlands lay quiet and peaceful, basking in one of those rare days that come on the cusp between winter and spring, where the wind is still, the sun shines, and everything seems to whisper the promise of new life.

She whistled and Snaffles’ head popped up from behind a tussock of grass he’d been investigating. With an ‘uff’ of delight, he came bounding over and danced around like some overgrown puppy.

Izzy laughed. “You’re excited too, eh? Everyone else’s mood must have rubbed off on you.”

In truth, the mood of expectation and excitement in Dun Saith was one of the reasons she’d come out here today. She’d needed some space to clear her head, away from the frenetic preparations for tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Her wedding day.

A little sliver of excitement slid through her belly and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. Tomorrow she would marry Magnus, the man she loved more than anything in the world. It still felt like a dream. The fact that she was going to marry him in Dun Saith, the ancestral home of the Sutherland clan, and the headquarters of the Order of the Osprey, and in fifteenth century Scotland was even more unbelievable.

But it was real, and here she was on the brink of starting a new life, a life that she’d never in a million years have dreamed she’d be starting .

So she’d come out here alone, telling herself that it was because Snaffles needed some exercise, but in reality knowing it was because she’d been trying to escape. Not from Magnus, of course. Never him. But from the reality of the monumental step she was about to take and a decision that she’d been putting off.

Did she want to go home? Did she want to return to the 21st century, to noisy streets and towering skyscrapers? To a world where she could order pizza at two in the morning, where her dog had a microchip, and where everybody carried a phone in their pockets?

Magnus had given her the choice. He would come with her, if she wanted, leaving everything he knew behind. Nothing spoke of his love for her more than that gesture and it made her love him all the more.

She walked on, Snaffles trotting along at her side. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, pink and wet against his dark face fur. He looked up at her with a wagging tail and sparkling eyes that seemed to say “Everything is going to be alright.” She laughed softly, reaching down to ruffle his fur.

She thought about her life in the 21st century—the hustle and bustle of city living, the technological gadgets that made life easier but somehow seemed to take up so much time. She remembered standing in lines, sitting in traffic, endless hours spent staring at screens. She thought about the pollution, the noise, the stress...

Then she thought about her friends, her family, and everything she missed.

Aargh! What should she do ?

“What do you think, boy?” she asked Snaffles. “Should we stay here or go home?”

Snaffles merely grinned at her. Izzy sighed. She’d been able to put off her decision for the past few weeks because Rory Stewart, a half-Fae member of the Order of the Osprey who could manipulate time and send her home, had been away in Ireland. But now he was on his way home and would be here for the wedding tomorrow. Which meant she couldn’t put off her decision any longer.

Suddenly, Snaffles lifted his head, his ears twitching as he caught sight of something in the distance. With a bark of excitement, he bounded off in that direction.

“Snaffles! Come here!”

He ignored her, too engrossed in whatever had caught his attention. She growled. That dog. One of these days, he might just do as he was told.

As she caught up, she saw what had so captivated him. A cat sat on a low stone wall, its emerald eyes locked onto the ecstatic dog who was down on his front paws, back end waggling as he invited the disinterested cat to play.

The cat was a striped tabby with an enormous fluffy tail who looked for all the world like a Scottish Wildcat. Her breath hitched as she recognized him.

“Baxter?”

The cat blinked owlishly then swished his tail back and forth.

“It is you, isn’t it? You’re Baxter?” Izzy said. Then she threw up her hands and laughed. “Listen to me! I’m having a conversation with a cat! ”

“Naught wrong with that, my dear,” said a voice behind her. “Ye should hear some of the rows Baxter and I have. Honestly, the language he uses could turn the air blue!”

Izzy spun. Standing behind her was a tiny old woman with storm-gray hair in a bun and eyes like chips of obsidian. She beamed up at Izzy with a cherubic smile.

“Irene?” Izzy gasped, staggering back a pace. “Irene MacAskill?”

“Were ye expecting someone else?”

“No, I... I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Izzy stuttered, her mind spinning at the sight of the old woman.

Snaffles ran over and nudged his head against Irene’s hand, demanding attention.

“Oh, ye are a good boy, aren’t ye?” she cooed, her old fingers scratching behind the dog’s ears. Irene’s eyes twinkled as she straightened. The wind rustled her bun slightly, loose strands of gray hair dancing around her face like wisps of cloud.

“I see ye’ve met my Baxter,” she said, nodding to the cat sitting on the wall, watching this exchange with a look of boredom on his feline face.

Izzy nodded, her gaze bouncing between the elderly woman and the tabby cat. “I didn’t know cats could...um... travel.” She didn’t want to say the words time travel. This was crazy enough as it was.

“Ah, Baxter is special,” Irene said, her eyes twinkling. “He’s not just any cat.”

I’ll bet he isn’t , Izzy thought. If he belongs to a Fae.

“Why are you here, Irene?” Izzy asked, unable to hide the unease in her voice .

Irene looked up at her, the cherubic smile fading into a more solemn expression. “I’ve come to give ye a choice, lass,” she said. Her voice was soft, like a whispering wind through the tall grass of a meadow. “Ye made a choice to come here, to take the harder, darker path. To see through the masks others wear to the reality underneath. That takes courage, lass. A courage not many possess. The question now is this: did ye find what ye were looking for when ye looked beneath those masks? Do ye wish to stay on the path ye have chosen? Or do ye wish to retrace yer steps and return home?”

Izzy blinked, surprised that Irene would ask her the question she’d been struggling with herself. She thought about her tedious bank job, the small apartment filled with half-finished projects and abandoned dreams, the relationships that never seemed to last. And then she thought about Magnus.

Magnus with his warm eyes and warmer smile. A man who believed in magic and wonder, and taught her to see it too. A man who had taught her that she was not the ordinary, nondescript woman she had always thought herself to be, but one who was brave and courageous. One who deserved to be loved the way Magnus loved her.

It had taken coming here, to this place and time, so far away from the safety and security she’d always believed she needed, in order for her to realize that. She liked the person she was in this place. She liked the person Magnus’s love had turned her into. She wanted to remain that person.

And suddenly there was only one decision she could make .

“I’m staying,” she said to Irene MacAskill. “This is my home now. Magnus is my home.”

Irene broke into a wide smile and her eyes shone with pleasure. “I’m mighty glad to hear ye say that, my dear.”

A profound relief washed through Izzy, and with it, a sense of peace. She sensed that everything was turning out how it was meant to. Except, perhaps, one thing. One thing more would make everything complete.

“Irene,” Izzy said, cocking her head as she regarded the tiny old woman. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Irene examined her with a curious expression, her eyes shining with the wisdom of years and countless journeys. She clasped her hands together and nodded, encouraging Izzy to continue.

“Will you...” Izzy started, hesitating for just the briefest moment before pushing forward. “Will you perform the ceremony for Magnus and me?”

The silence that followed was as soft and gentle as the morning breeze that rustled through the leaves overhead. Irene’s surprise was evident in her wide eyes and slightly parted lips. But then she smiled, and it was like watching a sunrise.

“My dear lass,” she said softly, reaching out to gently grasp Izzy’s hand in her own weathered ones. “There would be no greater honor.”

Izzy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Irene had started all this. It only felt right that Irene should finish it. Now everything was in place .

With a soft hum, the elderly woman began to walk off in the direction of Dun Saith. Baxter hopped off the wall with an agile leap and trotted after his mistress, tail held high.

“Well, lass?” Irene called over her shoulder. “What are ye waiting for! We’ve got a wedding to attend to!”

Izzy followed, Snaffles bounding along beside her, and soon caught up with Irene. Together, they returned to Dun Saith.

Magnus was waiting for her. As she and Irene entered Dun Saith’s broad courtyard, there he was. His dark hair was tousled by the wind, his ocean-blue eyes alight with anticipation as he watched their approach. He wore a simple white shirt and brown trews, but to Izzy, he had never looked more handsome.

Magnus’s eyes widened when he spotted Irene MacAskill at Izzy’s side. A flicker of unease passed across his face and he opened his mouth as though to speak but no words came out. He looked from Izzy to Irene and back again.

“Dinna look so worried, my boy,” Irene said, reaching up and patting his shoulder. “This is a happy day isnae it? Today is yer wedding day!”

“Today?” Magnus floundered. “It’s tomorrow—”

“No time like the present!” Irene cut in. “And I should know!”

Magnus blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden turn of events. His eyes flickered to Izzy, seeking reassurance. She merely smiled at him and nodded, her hand reaching out to find his. His fingers curled around hers in a gentle squeeze, a silent promise that he was ready, even if he was surprised.

The news spread like wildfire through Dun Saith. The daily activities came to a halt as people started preparing to bring the wedding forward by a day. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation—not least because Irene MacAskill of all people was conducting the ceremony and she was something of a legend among the Order of the Osprey.

Women ran hither and thither, their arms laden with flowers. Men rushed about, moving tables and benches into the courtyard under Irene’s watchful gaze. The children darted about like small sprites, their laughter ringing through the air as they played tag among the bustling adults.

And then it was time.

Izzy stood at the entrance to the courtyard, Emeric by her side. Her heart felt too big for her chest as she looked at the scene before her.

The courtyard had been transformed. The stone walls were draped with garlands of ivy intertwined with early spring flowers, their gentle fragrance wafting through the air. The benches were lined up neatly, creating an aisle that led up to a dais covered in thick green moss and crowned by an archway woven with branches and blossoms.

The courtyard was filled with members of the Order of the Osprey, including Magnus’s sword-brothers. She spotted Kai, Magnus’s commander, standing tall and proud by the dais, his white-blond hair catching the sunlight. His eyes met hers across the distance and he gave her a solemn nod. Beside him stood Oskar, his dark eyes twinkling. Conall was there too, his strong arms crossed over his broad chest, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched the proceedings .

Over the last few weeks Izzy had been getting to know them all, along with their wives, who, it turned out, were all time-travelers like herself. They were her new friends. Her new family.

Izzy took a deep breath, her fingers lightly tracing the intricate designs of the tartan cloth draped over her arm. It was blue and green, the colors of Magnus’s clan, and was to be used in the handfasting ceremony.

Taking a deep breath, Izzy nodded. Emeric offered his arm, and she took it with a grateful smile. The crowd parted as they began their slow procession down the aisle. A hush fell over the courtyard, broken only by the soft strumming of a lute and the rustle of the wind.

Izzy’s eyes focused on Magnus standing at the end of the aisle like a beacon. His gaze was locked with hers, a look of such pure love in his eyes that it brought tears to her own. She blinked them away, not wanting anything to blur her view of this moment.

Reaching the altar, Emeric gently released Izzy’s arm and gave her a reassuring pat on the hand before stepping back. Magnus reached out for her hand, pulling her gently towards him. his fingers warm and firm against hers.

The lute grew silent, and the courtyard seemed to hold its breath as Irene MacAskill stepped forward. In her hands she held a length of braided cord, the same colors as the tartan draped over Izzy’s arm.

“Who comes before this gathering?” she asked, her voice carrying across the courtyard.

“Isabelle Ross does,” Emeric replied, his voice ringing out confidently .

“And who stands to claim her?” Irene continued, turning her gaze to Magnus.

“I do,” Magnus responded, his deep voice filled with certainty. His hand tightened around Izzy’s.

Irene nodded approvingly and then turned back to the crowd. “Then we shall proceed with the handfasting.”

She instructed Magnus and Izzy to hold out their joined hands and she began to wrap the tartan and braided cord around them, weaving it over and under their wrists in an intricate pattern that was as old as time itself

“Ye are bound once...” Irene began, her voice low and resonant. She looped the cord again. “Ye are bound twice...” Another loop. “And thrice ye are bound.”

Her fingers danced nimbly over their hands, tugging the cord tight and binding the Kerr tartan around their wrists. Then Irene stepped back, her eyes gleaming with a quiet satisfaction as she looked at their bound hands.

“By the power of the earth beneath us, the sky above us, and the love between us, I now pronounce ye man and wife,” she declared. Her voice rang out across the courtyard, bouncing off the stone walls and echoing in the silence that followed.

Applause erupted around them as Magnus pulled Izzy into his arms, his lips finding hers in a deep kiss. The members of the Order of the Osprey raised their swords high into the air, a gleaming salute to their brother and his bride, whilst the guests burst into a cacophony of whooping and cheering .

The lute player began playing a lively tune and people started moving about, pulling tables laden with food and drink from the edges of the courtyard towards the center.

Magnus led Izzy by their bound hands to the head table, where a feast had been laid out. Platters were piled high with roasted meats, fresh fruits and crusty bread. Pitchers of ale were passed around along with flagons of mead, the sweet honeyed drink flowing freely.

As the celebrations unfolded—the dancing, the singing, the laughing, the trying unsuccessfully to chase Snaffles away from the food, that sense of peace Izzy had felt earlier returned. This was her life now—a part of a clan, a member of an Order, a wife to a man she loved more than she could have ever imagined.

Beside her Magnus leaned close. “What say we find a little privacy? I have a hankering to be alone with my wife.”

“Then your wife would say about bloody time.”

She placed her hand in his, and he led her away from the table amidst roars of approval from their friends. He guided her up a winding stone staircase that led to their chamber, their laughter echoing through the castle halls behind them.

Their room was bathed in warm candlelight, casting long flickering shadows on the stone walls and wooden beams. It was, Izzy had learned, one of the largest and most opulent in Dun Saith and was a gift to Magnus from his commander for all his years of loyal service. Now they were staying, she would soon get to work on making it their own.

As they stepped through the door, Magnus released Izzy’s hand and laid a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling back slightly to look into her eyes.

“Are ye happy, love?”

“More than I could ever have imagined.”

A slow smile stretched across his face at that. “As am I,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hers in a tender kiss that had Izzy’s heart fluttering.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to their bed where he laid her down. He hovered above her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her under the flickering candlelight. Then his fingers traced over the delicate lace of her dress and carefully began to unlace it, revealing her to him slowly. His touch was gentle yet firm, confident yet reverent.

“Ye are a vision, Isabelle,” he whispered, his voice rough. “My wife.”

My wife. Oh, how she loved hearing that.

He laid on the bed beside her, his warm body pressing against her. Leaning forward, his lips found hers again, and Izzy responded, deepening their kiss with a groan of pleasure. Magnus’s big hand roamed down her body, tracing the curve of her hip and coming to rest on her thigh. It was only a light touch, but it sent a thrill right through her.

Izzy reached up to unlace his shirt, her hands trembling slightly. Magnus stilled under her touch, his eyes never leaving hers as she undid each tie slowly, revealing his muscled chest. With an intake of breath, she skimmed her fingers over the hard planes of his torso, tracing the lines of his muscles. His breathing hitched when she ran her fingers over a long scar on his side—a remnant from a battle long ago and she could feel his heat tingling against her fingertips and all the way up her arm .

Magnus growled low in his throat, and, pushing her onto her back, he began kissing her again, hot and intense this time. Izzy gasped into his mouth, her fingers curling into his shoulders, and responded in kind.

After a moment, Magnus pulled back, looking down at her with darkened eyes. “May I?” he asked, his hand resting on the hem of her undergarments.

A nod from Izzy was all he needed. Slowly, he undressed her completely, leaving her bare under the flickering candlelight.

“It isnae enough to just see ye,” he said. “I want to know ye, every inch of ye, every curve and valley of yer body.”

With a wolfish grin, he started from the top. His lips found the hollow at the base of her neck first. His stubble tickled slightly as he kissed her, making her giggle.

In response, Magnus chuckled against her skin, the rumbling vibrations sending pleasant shivers down her spine. He continued his exploration, trailing kisses and gentle nips down the column of her neck to the swell of her breasts. His hands cupped them tenderly, his thumbs brushing against her sensitive peaks.

Izzy gasped as a fresh wave of desire crashed over her. Her body arched into his touch instinctively, seeking more. Magnus obliged, his lips closing around one peak while his hand continued its gentle assault on the other.

Izzy threaded her fingers through his hair, urging him on. She gasped when he bit down gently, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.

“Magnus,” she moaned softly. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him up to meet her lips. She kissed him fiercely, a wildness overtaking her as she lost herself. Oh, how she wanted him.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “Say it, Isabelle,” he murmured against her lips.

“I want you, Magnus,” she breathed out, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I want you inside me.”

His eyes darkened at her words, a deep growl rumbling in his throat. He rose above her, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over her body. Her fingers traced across his stomach, and then quickly untied his trews, allowing him to kick them off. He was naked now, all glorious six-foot-something of him lit by the soft glow of candlelight.

He placed his hands on the bed on either side of her, caging her in as he loomed above. His hair hung down in a black curtain, shielding his face, and his blue eyes burned with an intense need that left Izzy breathless. With his knees he nudged her legs apart and positioned himself between her thighs. Heat flooded through Izzy’s body, a desire every bit a match for his. His hands found hers, twining their fingers together above her head as he looked down at her.

“Ye are mine,” he whispered. Then he tilted his hips and slid slowly inside her.

Izzy gasped with pleasure. This felt so right. So...perfect. A cascade of sensations flooded through Izzy as Magnus filled her completely and then began to move. Slow and deliberate at first, each thrust sent a wave of ecstasy coursing through her body.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, her body arched into his as she matched his movements. With each thrust, she felt him deeper within her, stretching and filling her to the brink.

The world began to spin around her as they moved together. Magnus was relentless, taking her higher and higher until she felt herself teetering on the edge. Leaning down, his mouth captured her moans as he quickened his pace, responding to her mounting cries of pleasure.

“Magnus...” she gasped, her grip tightening around him. “I’m... I’m...”

“Let go, love,” he whispered. “Let go with me.”

And then she was soaring, her body convulsing around him as euphoria crashed over her like a tidal wave. In response, his rhythm faltered, his breath hitched, and then he was joining her, his body shaking with the force of his own climax. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, swallowing his gasp of pleasure as their bodies rode out the storm together.

Finally, when the waves of satisfaction began to ebb, he rolled off her, pulling her into his arms. They lay there panting, tangled up in each other as they struggled to catch their breath.

Silence settled over them once more, interrupted only by the flickering of the candles and their labored breathing. Izzy turned in his arms to face him, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

“Magnus?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?” His eyes were half-closed, but he turned to look at her, nonetheless.

“I love you. ”

The words hung in the air between them before a slow smile lit his features. He pulled her closer, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead.

“And I love ye, my brave Isabelle,” he murmured against her skin.

Her response was a contented sigh as she snuggled into his embrace. Their bodies were tangled in a mess of sheets and limbs, but neither made an effort to move. The world outside their chamber could wait.

Suddenly there was a scratch at the door and a plaintive whine.

“No,” Izzy said resolutely. “I’m not letting him in.”

A second later, the door burst open and a hundred-and-eighty pounds worth of dog came hurtling in. Izzy squawked and quickly wrapped a sheet around her.

Then she and Magnus spoke at the same time, both in an equally exasperated tone.

“Snaffles!”

THE END

THANK YOU FOR READING Journey of a Highlander !