Текст книги "Tempting the Highlander"

Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

He stopped outside the keep, dismounted, pulled her down to the ground, then took hold of her wrist in an unbreakable grip and towed her through the huge door. He led her to the blazing hearth and set her down on a stool beside it, giving her a pointed glare that said she had better stay put. He turned to the group of staring warriors, women, older children, and a dozen dogs and spoke in Gaelic.

Several of the women suddenly cheered, and quite a few of the men groaned loudly.

Niall got up from the table he’d been sitting at with several warriors and came over and pounded Robbie’s back with a smile.

Not ten minutes later, Catherine found herself standing beside Robbie MacBain, both of them facing a priest, with Ian beside Robbie and Gwyneth beside her and at least fifty people she didn’t know in attendance.

The ceremony was succinct, more spit than spoken, and Catherine never did get a chance to say “I do,” or even “I don’t,” for that matter.

The priest suddenly shut up and looked at Robbie. Mary silently flew down from the tall rafters of the great hall, as if appearing out of nowhere, and landed on Robbie’s shoulder. He held out his hand, and the snowy opened her beak and dropped two rings into his palm.

With the owl still on his shoulder, he turned to Catherine, took hold of her left hand, and slid one of the heavy gold bands onto her finger. She waited for him to pass her the other ring so she could throw it at his chest, but he simply slid it onto his own finger, took her left hand back between his, and smiled.

“It’s done, little Cat,” he whispered, pressing her hand between his palms, touching their rings together. “You’re mine.”

The wide band on her finger warmed until it felt as if it would burn her, and Catherine dropped her gaze with a gasp. Robbie’s ring appeared to glow with an energy of its own, and her hand sandwiched between his gently tingled as light shone through his fingers.

She tried to pull away, but he leaned down until his mouth was only inches from hers, causing Mary to flap away with a high-pitched whistle, back into the darkness of the rafters.

“Welcome to your new calling, wife,” he whispered, claiming her gaping mouth with a kiss that was far more possessive than gentle. “And to the rest of our lives, Catherine MacBain,” he added, sweeping her into his embrace, kissing her until her toes curled with excitement and her heart pounded with dread.

Chapter Twenty-one

Robbie only halflistened to the grudgingly given well-wishes of the warriors he was standing with, his attention tuned in to Catherine sitting on the stool by the large hearth.

His poor wife was looking small and fragile and rather bewildered as she inconspicuously tried to work her wedding band off her finger.

He nodded to the warriors and walked through the crowd of celebrating villagers, crouched down beside her, and lifted her left hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers.

“It won’t come off, Catherine.”

“It wasn’t that tight when you put it on,” she muttered, pulling free and tugging on the ring again.

He stilled her actions by taking both her hands in his as he brushed his lips across her cheek, ending his moist caress in her hair. “Aye, but it’s a special ring that is as much a part of you as I am now,” he whispered. “It’s the ring my mama would have worn, had she lived long enough to marry Michael MacBain.”

He lifted his left hand for her to see his own wedding band. “And this is the ring Mary would have given my papa. See,” he said, tugging on his own ring. “As long as we breathe, Catherine, neither ring will leave our fingers. Our bond has been blessed by providence.”

She stared at him, her huge brown eyes unblinking, and he couldn’t decide if she was even more confused by what he’d just told her or horrified.

He stood up and pulled her off the stool, and a hush fell over the great room as he led his wife to the narrow staircase on the far side of the hall. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, gave her trembling hand a gentle squeeze, swept her into his arms, and carried her up the stairs to the clapping and cheers and raucous encouragement of the villagers.

She was a bundle of shivers by the time they reached their room, and Robbie walked to the chair by the hearth, sat down, and settled her comfortably in his lap.

“Be easy, Cat,” he softly told her, tucking his finger under her chin to lift her pale face to his. “Nothing is going to happen tonight unless you wish it.”

“I don’t want to be married,” she whispered. She touched her hand to his chest. “Don’t take it personally, Robbie. It has nothing to do with you. It’s me. I just don’t want to be… to feel like I’m… to be… ”

“Trapped?” he finished, pressing her hand over his heart. “Catherine, our union is not a trap for either of us but a sacred trust between two people who love each other.”

“Y-you love me?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her obvious surprise. “Aye, since the moment I woke up and found myself tied to your bed.”

“But you didn’t even know me then.”

“I knew you, Catherine. And I also knew that you felt it, too. Enough that you placed yourself and your children’s welfare in my hands and took over my household with the determination of a mountain cat.”

“I was scared to death.”

“Aye. But that didn’t stop you, did it?” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose.

“One day, you’ll realize you’re brave enough to take me on. But until then,” he said, standing up and carrying her to the bed, “we’ll play by your rules.”

He laid her down, kissed her pale white cheek, pulled one of the blankets over her, and straightened.

She shot up into a sitting position, threw back the blanket, and tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. “Are you leaving again?”

He gently laid her back down. “Nay,” he said, covering her back up and then quickly climbing on top of the blanket. “Husbands do not abandon their wives on their wedding night.”

He threw his arm over her waist and pulled her backside into the crook of his body. “We

’ve both had a long day, and we need to get some sleep.” He gave her a squeeze.

“Tomorrow, you and Ian are coming with me to Snow Mountain, to help me hunt for Cùram’s tree.”

She turned her head in surprise. “We can go with you?”

“Aye, but only so that Ian can tell me about the lay of the land before the valley was flooded. Then the two of you are coming straight back here.”

She relaxed and faced the window, actually snuggling her backside against him. “I think we should take Niall and a hundred warriors with us,” she said. “For protection from the MacBains.”

“Nay, no one must know what I’m doing,” he told her, quickly bunching the blanket between them so he couldn’t feel her sweet feminine heat. “I’ve already spoken with Ian, and he’ll meet us out front at daybreak.” Robbie tightened his arm to stop her wiggling.

“Go to sleep, Cat,” he said through gritted teeth. “Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

But it was the night that was long for Robbie, as he lay beside his soft, warm, delicious-smelling wife, unable to claim her as his.

“My God, the destruction was great,” Ian said, staring out over the waters of the newly formed lake. “A good deal of Snow Mountain slid into the valley.”

Catherine resettled her stick on her shoulders when her horse sidestepped impatiently and let her gaze follow the densely forested shoreline until it came to the massive earthen dam of boulders, whole trees, and muddy debris wedged between a towering mountain and a smaller hill. Looking up, beyond the dam, she could see a gaping hole in the side of Snow Mountain, making an ugly scar of exposed granite running from its summit down to the lake.

Robbie turned to Ian. “How deep was the valley here?”

“There’s still as much mountain under the water as you see above it,” Ian said, looking at Robbie and frowning. “Do ya think Cùram’s tree was in the valley?”

“Aye, and I believe it still is.”

“But theloch would have drowned it.”

“Nay. Not if Cùram found a way to protect it.” Robbie turned his horse to face Ian and Catherine. “And what better place to hide something than under the water? Who thinks of anything but fish being in a lake?”

“But how did he protect it?” Ian asked. “A tree needs air to live.”

“Do you know of any caves on Snow Mountain, Uncle?”

Ian scratched his beard, staring at the ruined mountain and frowning. His eyebrows suddenly rose. “Aye! When I was a lad, we used to hide from our mamas by playing up here. I remember there were caves.” He suddenly frowned again. “But the landslide most likely destroyed them.”

“Maybe not,” Robbie said. “Exactly where did you play?”

“There,” Ian said, pointing to the other side of the dam. “I remember there was a cave about a hundred yards up from Snow River, that ran deep into the mountain and came up over there,” he added, his hand moving across the scar until he was pointing at an island in the middle of the lake. “Only that wasn’t an island then but a steep hill. The cave narrowed up until ya had to brace your feet and your back against it and climb out like it was a chimney.”

Robbie started his horse through the trees along the shore of the lake, heading toward the dam. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll look for the lower entrance first. If it’s covered by debris, I’ll swim to the island and see if I can find the other entrance.”

Catherine eyed the tiny island as she urged her horse after the two men. It appeared to be a good mile from shore, and the water looked cold. But trying to keep her promise to Robbie this morning, that she would not interfere in his work, Catherine said nothing and followed in silence.

They guided their mounts down through the forest into the deep valley, the earthen dam of boulders and mud and splintered trees rising above them on their right. They finally reached level ground, rode across the dry riverbed that had once been the obviously large Snow River, and started up the other side.

Ian moved into the lead, scanning the forest around them. “There,” he said, stopping his horse and pointing. “It’s been years, Robbie, but I think the entrance to the cave is up there.”

Robbie dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Catherine. He looked first at the earthen dam, then back at her. “If I find the entrance, I’ll come back and tell you before I go inside. The dam doesn’t look stable to me, so I want you and Ian to wait on higher ground.”

“You won’t go inside without telling us?”

He set his hand on her thigh. “I promise I won’t if you promise not to follow me.”

“You’ve been asking for a lot of promises this morning.”

His grin slashed across his face. “Aye, and I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping them quite well.”

She snorted and urged her horse forward, pulling Robbie’s horse with her. She moved past Ian and picked an easy route up the hill. But when she turned back to look, to remind Robbie to be careful, he had already disappeared into the woods.

“I’m relieved the boy has found himself a good wife,” Ian said, pulling up beside her.

“None of us wanted to see him so dedicated to his calling that he neglected his own happiness. His papa especially was starting to worry.” He grinned at her. “But now he has you. And I wish to tell ya, lass, that I’m proud of how you’re taking all this. Most women would be nothing but a ball of tears for finding themselves on this journey.”

Catherine had no idea how to respond to his relief or his compliment, other than to smile and whisper a thank you. She didn’t have the heart to tell Ian that it was easy for her to be brave in a dream and that once she woke up, she would no longer be married to his nephew.

They dismounted and tied their horses to some bushes, and Catherine sat down beside Ian and accepted the snack he handed her. It was a dry oat cake of some sort and looked as if it had been pounded flat with a hammer and probably tasted like sawdust. But, again, she didn’t have the heart to refuse his gift and took a bite, then quickly washed it down with even nastier-tasting ale. Dreams of living in the thirteenth century were a great way to lose weight, Catherine decided. She’d only been here three days, and she’d dropped another five pounds.

She stood up, surprised when Robbie suddenly appeared after being gone only twenty minutes.

“I found it,” he said, coming over and helping Ian to his feet. “And Cùram’s tree must be in there. I could feel how strong the energy was the moment I stepped inside.” He took hold of Catherine’s shoulders and made her face him. “I want you and Ian to go back to the village.”

“No. We’ll wait until you come back with the root.”

“Nay. I might be a while. The cave forks off in several directions just inside the entrance.

Go back to the village, and I’ll return as soon as I can.” He leaned down, gave her a quick kiss on the mouth, and straightened and smiled. “And then you and I will go home,” he whispered. “I miss our kids as much as you do.”

“Please let us wait here?” she asked, grabbing the front of his plaid. “We’ll keep an eye out for the MacBains. What if they come to take down the dam while you’re inside? The caves could flood.” She tightened her grip. “And Cùram. What if he suddenly shows up?”

“And just what do you plan to do if he does? Fight thedrùidh with your stick?”

“It’s about as useful as your sword!” she snapped, stepping away. Catherine sigh and canted her head at him. “Do you remember what you said to me right after you put the ring on my finger?”

“I said welcome to the rest of our lives.”

“No, first you said, ‘Welcome to your new calling, wife.’ And you were right. If I’m going to be a guardian’s wife, then it’s my duty to guard the guardian.”

“Dammit, Cat. That’s not what I meant.”

“But you can’t deny that husbands and wives have certain responsibilities to each other.

Just as you feel it’s your duty to protect me, do I not have the same privilege? Or is this one of those ‘I’m the brave warrior, and you’re the helpless little woman’ marriages?”

she asked, dropping her voice to sound like her dictatorial husband.

She smiled when his jaw clenched and stifled a chuckle when Ian snorted and said, “She’

s got ya there, MacBain. Even guardians need help sometimes, and who better than your wife?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Robbie said, glaring first at her and then at Ian. “And I did not bring you home, old man, to get you killed in three days.”

“Aye, but everyone needs to be needed, Robbie,” Ian said softly. “Including wives.”

“No! This is not open to discussion.”

“Then let me put it to you this way,” Catherine said, continuing the discussion anyway.

“If something happens to you, then I’m stuck here. I’m never going to see my children again.” He gave her such a confounded look that Catherine decided to press her advantage. “And I’ll be widowed and remarried to the first warrior fast enough to catch me.”

The noise started deep in his chest, rumbling with lethal warning, and erupted in a full-blown growl. Catherine simply smiled and tapped the end of his nose. She spun away before he could react, and sat back down on the mossy ledge and picked up her sawdust pancake.

“Go find your root,” she said, waving him away. “Ian and I will be right here when you get back.”

Ian, rubbing his hands together, moved to sit beside her, his chin lifted defiantly and his smile ruining his glare.

Robbie pulled his sword from the sheath on his back, and Catherine had a moment’s worry that he intended to send them home at sword-point. But Ian quietly reached over and squeezed her hand, then popped a piece of his cake into his mouth and chewed.

Robbie turned on his heel and started back toward the cave, then stopped and pointed his sword at them. “You’ll leave an hour before sunset if I’m not back by then,” he growled. “And if something happens to me, Mary can get you home.”

“Unless Mary dies trying to save you.”

He growled again, his face hard and his eyes glaring.

“Where is your pet?” Ian asked, looking up at the trees. “I haven’t seen her since we left this morning.”

“She went to check on the MacBains,” Robbie said, still glaring at Catherine. He finally looked at Ian. “Have my wife home by sunset, Uncle,” he softly commanded as he turned and disappeared into the woods.

Ian looked at Catherine and smiled. “It’s going to take him time to adjust to being married,” he told her, patting her arm. “But see, you’ve already won your first battle.

We get to wait here, and you get to do yar worrying up close.”

And worry she did, for three long hours. She ate several more sawdust pancakes and drank nasty ale until her stomach protested by throwing up. She paced a rut in the forest floor and watched Ian doze on and off, until the old man suddenly suggested they move themselves to the entrance of the cave.

Ian used her stick as a cane for the walk through the woods, and Catherine led their horses. She was surprised that Ian even found the cave and was even more surprised when she discovered the entrance was nothing more than a crack.

Warm air softly whistled from the crack, and Catherine settled Ian directly in front of it so he could soak up some of its warmth. Then she started wearing a new path in the dirt, pacing from their horses to Ian and back. But after another agonizing hour of worrying, wondering if Robbie was lost or stuck or had run into Cùram, she stopped when she heard a shrill whistle coming up the valley.

Mary landed on a branch in a tall pine tree and told Catherine her news. Catherine ran over to Ian and gently shook him awake.

“The MacBains are coming up the dry riverbed,” she said.

Ian came awake completely alert, canted his head, and listened. His eyes suddenly widened. “I’m guessing they’ve brought a legion of warriors,” he whispered, using the granite at his back to lever himself up. “Quick, we must hide ourselves and the horses.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Run down to where we were earlier and brush away our tracks leading up here. I’ll unsaddle our horses and send them away, and we’ll stash our gear and hide in the cave.”

Catherine ran to do as he told her, breaking off a spruce branch to brush the ground with. She even swept their path up from the riverbank and had just made it back to the cave when they heard the warriors stop at the base of the dam.

“Can you get inside, Ian?” she whispered, using her hand to protect his head when he tried to duck through the crack. “Do you fit?”

“Aye,” he said with a grunt, expelling his breath to squeeze through the narrow entrance. “It opens up once ya get inside,” he whispered, reaching out his hand. “Come quick, Catherine.”

She squeezed in after him, blinking to adjust to the low light, and gasped in surprise to see that the walls of the cave appeared to be glowing. She crawled further in and touched them, and found that they were unnaturally warm.

“What does this mean?” she whispered, crawling back to Ian. “How can they glow like that?”

“It’s the magic, lass,” he said as he watched through the crack and listened. “Aye, they’

ve stopped, all right. I’m thinking they’re making good on their threat to tear down the dam themselves. But don’t worry, lass. Niall will be here shortly.”

“Niall?”

“Aye,” he said, looking back at her and smiling. “My son was elected laird because of his cunning. He likely had someone guarding the dam.”

“But wouldn’t Niall’s scout have stopped us?”

Ian shrugged. “We’re just three villagers out enjoying the countryside, upsetting no one.” He grinned and patted her hand. “And we’re wearing the right color plaids. Nay, the scout will see the MacBains and go get my son.”

Catherine gasped and looked down. “Oh, my God, that’s water,” she hissed, getting up on her hands and knees as the floor became soaked and water started to trickle toward the crack. “Robbie!” she cried, trying to move deeper into the cave.

Ian grabbed her ankle. “Nay, lass. Ya cannot go after him. He’ll be back soon.”

The water quickly rose to about three inches deep, quietly babbling at first and then gushing into a small river that ran out the crack. Loud splashing came from deep in the cave, along with a roaring sound that shook the ground, and Catherine turned and saw Robbie hunched over, holding his chest as he ran toward them, a wall of water behind him.

“Get out!” he shouted when he spotted them. “Now!”

The frothing water beat them to the crack, washing them up in its path and spewing them from the cave in a churning deluge of chaos. A strong hand clamped around Catherine’s wrist, anchoring her against the current. She thought she was going to drown before she was suddenly pulled free of the water’s grip and slapped onto damp earth next to Robbie.

Ian shouted as he tumbled into the woods. Robbie pulled something from his chest, shoved it into her lap, and took off after the old warrior. Catherine sat up and blinked at the squirming, hissing bundle in her hands. A tiny mouth with miniature fangs spit at her as the black kitten twisted to get free.

But it was the thick piece of curling wood clutched in its sharp little claws that made Catherine smile. Robbie had found Cùram’s tree! She hugged the kitten to her chest, ignoring its spitting attempts to bite her.

“Shhh,” she crooned, rubbing its neck. “You’re safe now. Robbie wouldn’t leave you to drown.”

The wet little bundle trembled in her arms and finally settled down. She tried to pull the root from its claws, but it growled and hugged the wood tighter.

“Okay, you can hold on to it for now,” she whispered, using her thumb to stroke its shivering body.

She looked up when Robbie came striding through the water with Ian. He set him down on the ground beside her and cupped Ian’s sputtering face in his hands.

“You’re okay, Uncle. Just get rid of what you swallowed.”

Ian leaned over and coughed up a stomach full of water. He wiped his mouth, looked up at Robbie, and grinned. “I thank ya, MacBain.” But his smile disappeared when he looked over at Catherine. “What in hell is that?” he asked, pointing at her chest.

“That,” Robbie said, taking the once again spitting kitten from her and holding it against his own chest, “is a piece of the tap root from Cùram’s tree,” he said, pulling the wood from the kitten’s claws and holding it up. “I found it,” he said, clutching his prize in his fist. He looked over his shoulder at the stream gushing from the crack beside them, then turned back. “But I’ve killed the old tree of wisdom,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“It was in a deep crevice on the island, just its top branches exposed. When I dug at its base to get this root, I opened the flood-gates.”

“But what in hell is that?” Ian asked again, pointing at the kitten.

Robbie held the growling black ball up to face him. “A panther cub, I’m guessing,” he said, smiling when the kitten took a swat at him.

Ian snorted. “We don’t have panthers in Scotland.”

Robbie handed the cub back to Catherine and shrugged. “It was all alone in a tiny den not far from the entrance and was still there when I came running out. I couldn’t leave it to drown.”

Catherine held out her hand to Robbie as the cub squirmed and growled in her arms. “It wants the root. It’s his security blanket.”

Robbie hesitated, obviously reluctant to give his prize away, but then handed it over.

The cub dug its tiny claws into the wood, clamping its teeth over the root before finally settling against Catherine’s chest.

She pulled open the front of her shawl and tucked the kitten and root inside, tightened the knot securely, and patted it as she smiled at Robbie. “I promise not to let either of them out of my sight,” she said. “Ah… we chased the horses off so the MacBains wouldn

’t find us. How are we going to get back to the village?”

No sooner had she asked that than at least four dozen MacBain warriors emerged from the woods, swords drawn and pointed at them, each looking fierce enough to stop Catherine’s heart.

Robbie stood up and pulled his own sword from its sheath, which caused several of the warriors to step forward.

“Nay,” Ian said, scrambling to his feet. “Angus, ya old bastard, it’s me, Ian MacKeage.”

“You would have better luck in Gaelic, Uncle,” Robbie whispered, not taking his eyes off the wall of warriors.

“Aw, hell,” Ian muttered. He started speaking in Gaelic and walked toward them.

Catherine watched as one of the warriors, a man nearly as old as Ian, took a step back, his face paling and his eyes widening in shock.

“What’s happening?” she asked, getting to her feet to stand beside Robbie, clutching the kitten and tree root to her chest.

“That’s Angus MacBain he’s talking to,” Robbie told her, still not taking his eyes off the threat. “He’s my grandfather. And he can’t believe he’s seeing Ian, as his son, Michael, was lost with Ian ten years ago.”

“But what is Ian saying?”

“That he was with Michael when they were captured by the English. He’s telling Angus how his son died and of Michael’s great love for his own daughter, Maura. That they were going to run away and get married when she died.”

“Angus didn’t know about Maura?”

“He knew Michael was hellbent on going to war over a MacKeage woman, but Angus didn’t know Maura had been pregnant with his grandchild at the time of her death.”

Robbie darted a look at her, then back at the two older men. “Angus heard that Greylen and Ian and the others had disappeared with his son in a great storm, but he really thought the MacKeages had killed Michael and the five other MacBain warriors. There, Ian just told him that Michael died a hero by saving his life.”

Angus scowled at Ian and pointed at Robbie and Catherine.

“Ian is telling him… aw, hell,” Robbie growled, wiping his face with his free hand. “Ian just told him I’m a powerfuldrùidh named Cùram de Gairn and that if they don’t go home peacefully, I’m going to drown them all.” Ian pointed at the water spewing from the crack in the mountain, and Robbie groaned. “Now he’s telling them I can reroute the Snow River and that if they want it to flow through MacBain land again, they should bow to my benevolence instead of daring to point their swords at me and my wife.”

“So I’m a wizard’s wife?” Catherine squeaked.

Robbie snorted. “Ian does love to spin tales,” he said, shaking his head. He resheathed his sword and took a deep breath. “Well, I might as well give them a show, so my uncle won’t be a liar and they can go home and tell their own tales around the campfire.”

“What?”

He took hold of her hand and led her straight toward the wall of warriors. He stopped in front of Angus MacBain and said something to him in rapid, spitting Gaelic.

Catherine leaned toward Ian.

“He’s telling Angus that he knew his son and that Michael MacBain was a great warrior that any papa would be proud of,” Ian translated for her.

Robbie pulled his dagger out of his belt and handed it to Angus. The old MacBain warrior clutched the dagger in his fist until blood ran through his fingers and snapped his gaze back to Robbie.

“That’s Michael’s dagger,” Ian said in a whisper. “And now Robbie is turning so that Angus can see the hilt of his sword, that used to belong to Robert MacBain, Angus’s brother.”

Angus was Robbie’s grandfather? Robbie certainly hadn’t inherited his height from him.

Angus MacBain was only an inch taller than she was. “Is he going to give up his sword?” Catherine asked in a hushed voice, leaning closer to Ian even though Robbie still held her hand.

“Nay,” Ian said. “Angus asked for it, but Robbie told him that Robert wanted him to have it, to remind him of his duties to the MacBains. They should know they have a powerful guardian looking out for their welfare and that he’s going to breach the dam so their livestock can drink from the Snow River again.”

“C-Can he do that?” Catherine whispered.

Ian shrugged. “The boy’s not one to give empty boasts.”

Robbie then led Catherine right past the gaping warriors, speaking in Gaelic as they strode past, and Ian and Angus fell into step behind them. But instead of also following, the warriors suddenly scrambled down the hill toward the riverbed.

“I’ve told them to move their horses to dry ground,” Robbie explained as he helped Catherine over a fallen log. “How’s your passenger doing?”

“Fine,” she said, patting the lump on her chest. “I think he might even be sleeping. Can you really break the dam?”

“Aye. It’s unstable and should only take a small effort.”

The clamor of pounding hoofbeats rose from the other side of the lake. Catherine, Robbie, Ian, and Angus stepped out of the woods and onto the edge of the dam just in time to see Niall and an army of at least two hundred warriors come to a halt on the opposite shore.

Robbie shouted to Niall and pointed to Ian and Angus, then spoke rapidly in Gaelic to the young laird for several minutes, until Niall finally dismounted and strode across the dam toward them.

“It’s time for you to go home now, Uncle,” Robbie said in English, turning to him.

He pulled Ian into a fierce embrace, holding him in his arms for several heartbeats before he kissed his cheek and used his thumb to wipe a tear from the old man’s cheek.

He whispered something to him, clapped his shoulders rather soundly, smiled, and whispered something else.

“Give Ian a hug good-bye, Cat,” Robbie said, pulling her over to them. “You won’t be seeing him again.”

His words hit Catherine like a sharp blow to her heart. She hadn’t thought about never seeing Ian again. She’d never again hear his beautiful lilt, get one of his bear hugs, or gaze into his eyes that wrinkled at the corners.

“Ah, Catherine,” Ian said with a sigh, pulling her into a bear hug. “Ya remember what I told ya about husbands needing time to adjust,” he whispered in her ear. “Just love my nephew and try to laugh more than ya scold, lass. And thank ya for sharing my journey home.”

She was crying so hard she couldn’t see anything when Robbie dragged her away from Ian and tucked her back against his side. The kitten finally settled down again, now that it wasn’t getting squished by Ian’s hug, and Catherine had to use the edge of Robbie’s plaid to dry her own face.

Niall walked up to Ian, stopped long enough to glare at Angus MacBain, and then put his arm around his father and started walking him back across the dam. He stopped, stared at Robbie for several seconds, then nodded and turned to help Ian onto his horse.