Chapter Twenty-Two

The trip from Castle Tioram to Ross's home was a long, grueling one. After a sennight of riding most of the day through rain and cold and sleeping on the cold hard ground, he was weary of travel. Though Grace had not made the slightest complaint, shadows had been under her eyes for two days now. She'd risen this morning easily enough to continue their travels, but she'd been sleeping soundly against him since just after they'd stopped midday for a light repast and to water the horse. Her deep steady breaths and her body heavy against his told him she was bone-weary as well, so when his home appeared on the twilight horizon, he debated for a moment whether to wake her or let her sleep. But a sense of awe, peace, and completeness filled him, and he wanted to share seeing his home for the first time—or for the first time that he'd remember it—with her.

Her head rested against the right side of his chest with her face turned to his, so that all he had to do was press a kiss to her cheek, her nose, and her forehead and whisper, "Grace, we're home." The words made him feel complete, as he never had before in his life. Dunstaffnage Castle was his family stronghold, and now it was his and Grace's home. They would wed and build a life together there, and hopefully welcome his brother and sister and their families, if they had them, back to the stronghold once Bran found them. He refused to consider that Bran would fail to find them alive.

Grace stirred just as the mist parted. He glanced down at her as her eyelashes fluttered open, and her gaze locked with his. "Hello," she said, her voice soft but thick with lingering sleep. She yawned and stretched her arms out as she arched her back against him. Every movement of hers was graceful and fascinating, and he was certain he'd never get tired of watching her. "Ye're staring again," she said, grinning.

"Aye," he replied, smiling back. "I told ye that ye need to get used to that. I'll be staring at ye for the rest of my life because every time I look at ye, I'm amazed."

"By what?" she said, twisting slightly to bring her hand to his cheek for a moment. It was such a simple gesture, but it moved him every time she did it. It showed her love and tenderness she held for him, and that was worth more than all the gold in the world.

"That yer mine," he replied, pressing a kiss to the smooth skin of her forehead. "That ye will soon be my wife."

"Aye," she said, "I will. I want to wed the moment we reach yer home."

"Well, 'tis our home, and we're here, but my pretty little lass, I think I'll need to sleep before we wed, so that I can properly make ye fully mine after we give our vows."

"Well, in that case, ye may sleep tonight, but on the morrow, I wish to be made yers in every way imaginable," she said, sitting up and exclaiming, "Ross, 'tis magnificent!"

He looked toward Dunstaffnage once more, and he was struck with a sense of familiarity and pride. The stone castle appeared formidable, sitting as it did on a platform of thick enormous rock above the Firth of Lorn and surrounded on three sides by the sea. The entrance to the castle was a long wooden bridge with tall guard gates at the beginning of the bridge and at each end. Torches lined the bridge and along the castle walls, flickering brightly in the rapidly darkening sky and casting light on the scores of guards standing watch. His home. His warriors. He prayed his memories of the place, of his family, would one day return.

Torquil rode up beside him as they neared the first guard gate, and behind them rode a half dozen men of the Northern Watch. "Bran is going to be so happy to return here," Torquil said.

Ross looked to the man who was as an uncle to him. "I wish he was here with me now."

"Aye. I wish he was as well, but ye ken as well as I do that there is nae anyone better to be searching for yer sister and brother than Bran, and if he needs our aid, he'll come for it."

"Aye, I ken it," Ross said, "but I feel I should be searching for them as well."

"Yer first priority must be to yer clan as a whole," Grace said, speaking up. "Once ye have established yerself as laird, ye can send guards in every direction to search for yer brother and sister."

Ross glanced at her for a moment and smiled. "How is it that I've ended up with such a brilliant lass?" he said, kissing lips that had curved into a soft smile.

"Luck, I suppose," she replied.

But as the guard stepped out of the tower with his sword drawn, Ross said, "Nay, my heart. 'Twas fate." He brought his destrier to a halt as the guard looked up to them and said, "State yer business with the Stewarts.

"I'm Ross Stewart," Ross said.

The man gave him a doubtful look. "If that's the truth of it, I'm told ye'll have a brand. I'll be needing to see it. Ye can imagine the stirring at the castle what with Laird MacCoul being named traitor to the King of Scotland and hauled off to the dungeon at the king's castle.

"Aye," Ross said, dismounting. "I can imagine the castle inhabitants are in a stir. He tugged his plaid up to show the man his brand.

The man stared for a long moment, before muttering, "My God, 'tis true." He kneeled, bowed his head, and said, "Laird Stewart. I beg forgiveness for questioning what ye say. I'm yer humble servant Leif."

For a moment, Ross stared at the man, stunned, but then he clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Leif, ye're nae my servant. Ye are my clansman, therefore ye are part of my family. Rise, aye, and lead myself, my betrothed, Grace MacDonald, and the leader of the Northern Watch into my rightful home.

Leif scrambled to his feet quickly, glanced to Grace and whistled, then said, "Beg pardon, my lord, my lady, but Lady Grace is the prettiest lass I've ever seen."

"Ye dunnae ever need beg pardon for paying me a compliment, Leif," Grace said in the sweetest voice, making Ross's chest tighten. He took the reins of the horse and began leading it across the bridge, but Grace said, "Might I dismount?"

Ross paused and looked to her as Leif returned to the guard tower. "Are ye nae too tired to walk, lass?"

The glare she gave him made him chuckle. She was a strong lass to her core and a proud one, and she was his. "I'll have ye know," she said, dismounting on her own as she pushed his hands away, "that I can outlast ye any day. I dunnae need to ride. I'll walk by yer side," she said.

He took her hand and squeezed it. "Ye certainly will, lass. Forever and for that, I am the world's happiest man.