Page 69 of The Best of Madeline Grant

“Who are you waving at, Sandor?” she whispered, not wishing to awaken the others.

“Gwanda. He o’er dare.” He pointed into the corner, one thumb in his mouth.

She had to give that some thought. Sandor’s grandfathers were Connor and Derric’s father; neither were dead, so who could he be seeing? “Gweetings to you, Gwamma. See Gwammatoo.” He pointed to a spot next to the first place he pointed. “Her hair like you.”

What was the boy seeing? He must be dreaming and not awake yet.

Tora woke up and explained to Maeve as if she read her mind, “Nay, not Gwandpapa Connor. Gwandpapa Alex is watching over us. He said to tell you not to wowwy. Maitland will save us on the morrow in the boat. Maitland, Sloan, and Eva.”

Maeve’s insides nearly burst. She wished to jump off the pallet and beg her dearest mother and father to help them get out now. If she could believe their ghosts were truly here watching over them and communicating with Tora and Sandor, she had so many questions.

“Gwamma says be patient. She says we will all be fine. She says my mama is coming on the morrow.” Then Tora sat up and said, “Gwamma, I’m cold.”

Maeve couldn’t imagine the lass would warm, but she had to ask. “What’s happening, Tora?”

“Gwamma told Gwanda to warm us up.” Then she giggled.

“What?” Maeve didn’t wish to miss any of this, whatever it was.

“Gwandda says she’s always cold. And she said, ‘Alex.’ And he said he fix us.”

A sudden blast of heat came from the ceiling as if a hearth sat above them. “Tora! Do you feel it?”

Tora said, “My thanks, Gwandpapa.” Then she settled back under her blanket.

“Da? Mama?” Tears misted her gaze as Maeve stared into the darkness. Alex and Maddie Grant had adopted her long ago and treated her as their own. She’d been their youngest, and once she arrived on Grant land, she’d never left until she had fallen in love with Maitland.

Suddenly, the aroma of apples overpowered her, the same scent she had enjoyed whenever she and her father had picked apples in the orchard they’d planted long ago. She gasped and tipped her head back, inhaling to cherish the moment, the memories so strong that she could revisit the experience of running in the meadow, the scent of lavender from her mother now cascading over her.

“I’ll be patient, Mama. But please don’t go.” When the scent dissipated, she whispered, “Sandor, are they still there?”

The wee lad said, “Aye, Gwanda and Gwamma stayeen. I seepy.” His thumb returned to his mouth, and he closed his eyes.

Maeve breathed a sigh of relief and said a quick prayer of thanks. That was just what she needed to continue to be strong for these bairns.

The Wrath of a Scottish Blade

Hagen and Brynja

Chapter Forty-Two

Maddie and Alex return for the holiday.

With all the family that had arrived, and Yule only a few days away, they’d decided to start the Yuletide festival with the wedding of Hagen and Brynja. From there, they were headed into a huge three-day celebration.

Jamie, Gracie, and Kyla had arrived with various other Grants, all worried about Connor. Two ships of guards had gone home, with one ship left for the family members.

Gracie swore she was waiting until Eli had her baby.

Connor enjoyed spending time with his brother and sister. They’d sat up on the parapets last eve, and he’d shared with them his near-death experience of seeing their parents. Kyla had sobbed through the entire story.

He’d kept the secret about Hagen and Brynja’s true gift, afraid no one would believe them. In true Hagen nature, he’d refused to wait to marry Brynja, so they’d arranged the wedding, Kyla and Sela enjoying every last bit of making all the arrangements. They’d had a great, successful hunt with Sloan, Thane, and Lennox along with them, Merryn catching her first pheasant while Dyna grabbed two and Eli one. There would be lamb and venison meat pies aplenty, even a slab of boar meat brought over by Jamie, and the MacVey and Rankin cooks had helped out with extra bread.

It would be a wonderful celebration.

The wedding had begun in the packed great hall, so many bodies there that some had to stand. Connor sat off to the side of the couple as the priest rambled on. Hagen and Brynja, theirhands intertwined, stood together, ready to say their vows for their marriage.

His gaze traveled fondly back to his son, besotted and smitten, but also proudly wearing his father’s sword. Connor had given it to him earlier in front of his siblings, surprised not by his own tears, but those of Sela’s and Hagen’s. Kyla and Maeve had cried buckets, but that much he had expected.