Page 62 of Only a Highlander Will Do

“I’m not certain she is in control of when she leaves,” Orrick replied. “According to a fifteenth-century book on the occult, she remains tied to this world because there is something in her life that remains undone.”

Tormod frowned. “If she was going to leave on Samhain, wouldn’t she have vanished by now?”

Orrick shook his head. “The same researcher suggested that if someone were to pass to the other-world on Samhain, it would happen as the tower bell tolls midnight.”

“It’s almost midnight now.” A tear wound its way down Rowena’s cheek.

They all gathered around their mother, and as they did, Alastair pulled Gwendolyn tight against his side, while Tormod moved behind Fiona and eased her back against his chest.

“We love you, Mother,” Callum said. “And only want what is best for you.”

“Be happy in a new existence.” Orrick’s mouth lifted in a sad smile.

“Your task of protecting all of us is through.” Tormod squeezed Fiona’s fingers. “We will continue to hold you in our hearts all the rest of our days.”

“Be at peace,” Alastair said, his voice soft. “You are a remarkable woman—so brave and strong.”

The Grey Lady turned a motherly gaze on each of her children, then upon Gwendolyn and Fiona. If I have been brave, it was all for the love of you.

As the tower bell began to toll, an eerie silence came over the shore. Even the water’s advance and retreat seemed to still. Fiona held her breath and counted. As the twelfth toll faded, all eyes hung upon the Grey Lady. The mist surrounding Janet MacLeod remained constant, but the greyness about her, instead of fading, turned to a greyish blue.

They waited.

And waited.

When the tide lapped once more, Tormod smiled. “It seems you are not quite ready to leave us, Mother.”

She returned his smile. I suppose I am not. Are you disappointed?

“Nay,” Alastair exclaimed. The sentiment was echoed by the others. “As long as you are not in pain, or tormented in any way, we want you here.”

Callum picked up his mandolin and started playing a lively tune, bringing back a celebratory mood to the night once more. Dancers gathered around the fire, and they continued to celebrate the end of a successful harvest and the beginning of the shift into winter.

When Tormod’s gaze met hers, Fiona no longer saw the man who had kidnapped her and forced her into marriage. Instead, she saw a vulnerable man who had survived his own private hell to emerge strong and vital. He in turn had shared not only his strength with her, but also his heart. The years ahead would add depth to their relationship. Their shared joys and sorrows would shape them even more than they already had.

She stepped towards her husband and reached out to take his hand in hers, wrapping her fingers around it. “Are you happy tonight? After all it is your birthday.”

“I couldn’t be happier.” He ran a hand along the silken length of her plait.

“I have a gift for you,” Fiona said, reaching into a hidden pocket in her dress.

“You are all the gift I need.”

She offered him a small piece of cloth folded over on itself. He lifted the edges carefully until the heart-shaped rock inside revealed itself. “I found it on the Fairy Bridge. I hoped you might keep it on you so that when you are away, a piece of my heart and a token from Dunvegan might be with you always.”

“It’s perfect.” He beamed, bringing the small rock to rest atop his heart. “I have a few gifts for you as well.”

“You do?” She grinned up at him as he shifted their positions along the shoreline so they could talk in private. The light of the Samhain fire danced in his eyes, revealing a man who was finally at peace with his life and himself. “First, by way of a diplomatic envoy arranged by Alastair, I have paid your father’s debt to the MacDonalds. They have no hold over you in any way. You are free of the past.”

She lifted her hand to his cheek and stroked it. “That means everything to me, thank you.”

“Second . . .” he reached down and came up with a metal spade with a wooden handle “. . . this is only symbolic of the larger gift from my family. Dunvegan Gardens are yours to do with as you please. Alastair has created a budget for you so that you can employ gardeners and purchase any supplies necessary.”

“My own gardens?” She accepted the spade and clutched it to still her trembling fingers. “That is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.” She reached for him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I like my surprises very much.”

He smiled mischievously as he took the spade from her and set it aside. “There’s more.” Next he produced a reddish-brown stone that he settled in one of her hands and a leather-covered document that he placed in the other.

Her breath caught in her throat and she blinked back tears. “I would know this stone anywhere, even in the dark. It’s from Ulster Castle.”