Page 61 of Only a Highlander Will Do

“And I love you.” She met his lips and captured them in a kiss that was both ardent and innocent. The silence of the moment was shattered by the barking of seals. The sea creatures bobbed their heads and splashed in the water as though rejoicing that the two of them had finally expressed the emotions deep in their hearts.

“Given the fact we have an audience, I relinquish your lips for now,” he whispered against her cheek. “But I promise a more thorough expression of my love when we are once again alone.”

Fiona nestled against him, her gaze shifting back to the water. She was silent for so long that he tilted her face up to look in his eyes.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Samhain and your mother,” she replied. “Your mother told me the barrier between the human world and spirit world thins on the eve of Samhain. Do you think that is when she will finally leave this castle and all of you?”

“She’d be leaving you as well,” he said softly. “I believe my mother is especially fond of you judging by how much she has interfered in our lives over the past few days.”

Fiona smiled. “I’m very fond of your mother. I wish her peace, yet I’d hate to see her go.”

“We won’t know for certain if she will leave us until tomorrow night.” Silence descended between them again. Tormod allowed his gaze to linger on the last threads of red and gold as they disappeared from the sky. A short time later, darkness descended and a million stars shone brightly overhead.

“I used to come here often as a lad after my mother died and to escape my father’s brutality. I would stare up at the night sky, trying to make sense of it all—her death, his pain, and my need to put it all behind me.” He exhaled, letting his gaze wander over the familiar placement of the stars. “The stars and the constellations they make up are so familiar to me. Like that star there.” He pointed towards a bright star. “That is the north star. I could see it whether I was here at home, or while in Spain, or the West Indies. The light was not as bright in the West Indies, but it was still there.”

She raised her finger to point at the same star with one eye closed as though memorising its location. “That must have brought you comfort.”

“It did. I want that same comfort for my mother, whether that is for her to remain here with us, or moving on to her final reward, perhaps amongst the stars.”

Fiona released a soft sigh. “I want that for her as well. I suppose we will have to wait until tomorrow night to find out which it will be.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

After a night and the following day spent in each other’s arms, Fiona and Tormod parted to prepare for the evening ahead. The entire castle and everyone for miles around came to celebrate Samhain. Though Fiona wished she could still wear her leather trousers, she chose to put on a dress Gwendolyn had made especially for her. Dressed in the sky-blue satin dress with a lace overdress and covered with tatted rosettes, Fiona made her way belowstairs.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Tormod waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He wore a surcoat and waistcoat of navy blue over a white shirt with a cravat tied in a knot. Beneath his waistcoat he was dressed in a pleated and belted tartan with accents of red, gold, and blue. The end of the tartan was brought up and draped across one shoulder, then secured to his surcoat with a large silver brooch that bore a Celtic knot design. He was clean-shaven and his dark hair was pulled back and secured with a black ribbon. He was magnificent, and he was hers.

Tormod offered her his arm. “May I escort you to the festivities?”

Eager to see the results of all the preparations, Fiona placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her outside. All the cooking had been done during the day, so no one had any other responsibilities than to enjoy themselves and eat their fill. Mrs Honey, Mrs Morgan, and Mrs Bagley had certainly seen that no one would go hungry as the celebration stretched into the night.

Long tables had been set up in the rear courtyard and were filled to overflowing with all manner of delights. On the menu were rabbit stew and herb dumplings, rosemary-seasoned lamb, hotchpotch, venison and red-currant jelly, salted herring, salmon, mussels and onions, barley bannocks, haggis, meat pies, cabbage, turnips, apples, cheese, loaves of crusty bread, with date pudding, and apple tarts for dessert.

A waxing gibbous moon hung overhead and added to the golden glow of the massive Samhain fire that burned along the shoreline. The wind carried the musical strains of bagpipes across the night, blending the sound of music with the voices of those gathered.

Gwendolyn and Alastair came to greet them. “I knew that dress would look lovely on you,” Gwendolyn said. “And just as we are nipping in the waistlines of your dresses, the seamstress will be letting mine out.”

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Fiona smiled. “Congratulations.”

“You’re going to have a bairn?” Tormod asked his brother with a mixture of disbelief and joy in his voice.

Alastair beamed. “A son or a daughter will arrive in late spring.”

“What if there is one of each? Or possibly three?” Tormod asked with a raise of his brows.

At Tormod’s suggestion, Alastair paled and staggered on his feet. “I hadn’t considered that possibility.”

Gwendolyn laughed, coming to her husband’s side and taking him by the arm. “The man rushes into battle with no fear whatsoever, but the idea of more than one baby at a time brings him to his knees.”

Alastair placed his hand across her womb. “Can you tell if there is more than one?”

She smiled as she positioned her hand over his. “Not at this early stage. But I have no doubt we can handle whatever life throws our way, especially with our family around us.”

Orrick, Callum, and Graeme came to join them in congratulating Alastair and Gwendolyn. Not to be left out, Rowena skipped to them from across the courtyard, wearing a wreath of woven daisies upon her head and carrying an armload of others. “These are for you.” She placed a crown of flowers atop all their heads before she stopped, and turned her gaze to the Samhain fire and the ghostly figure of the Grey Lady staring at the red-gold fingers of flame that stretched towards the night sky.

Rowena’s mood sobered. “Will tonight be when Mother leaves us? She doesn’t seem all that eager to depart.”