RETURN TO THE CASTLE
The raiders were returning.
Amabel stood on the roof of the castle, feeling the wind tug at the fine linen of her dress. She was wearing a long cream-linen gown, bound with a kirtle of pale pink. Her headdress fluttered with a pink chiffon scarf. Alina stood beside her. She gripped Amabel's arm.
“They are here.”
Amabel strained to catch a glimpse of them where Alina pointed. She followed the line of her vision to the distant hills. In the far distance, snaking between the low hills, was a whitish line. As they watched, it came closer and resolved, slowly, into tiny figures of men, marching through the misty light.
Amabel leaned heavily on the vast stone merlon behind which she stood. She watched as the line wound its way over the green-gray moorland. As they neared, she could hear chanting.
Her eyes widened. They were singing, and beating drums, and as they neared, she heard laughter floating over them.
She turned to look at Alina, eyes shining.
Her sister's dark eyes gazed tranquilly back.
“Alina!” Amabel whispered. “They're here! They won.”
Alina smiled. She gripped Amabel's arm. “I am glad for you, sister,” she whispered.
Together, they watched the line draw closer.
Down below them, they could see Lord Lochlann standing on the walls. Clad in a long gown of white linen, white hair brushed back in a shining mane that hung to his shoulders, he looked coolly relaxed.
Amabel looked down at him indifferently. He was smiling, laughing, joking with his men at arms and visiting lords. As if every day he sent men to their deaths, and every day they won battles for him.
If one hair on my man is harmed, you will pay for it. Her blue eyes slitted as she looked at him.
Heath was standing beside him, shiny-eyed, which meant Chrissie was down there, too. As she watched, she saw the girl catch sight of the men. She clapped her hands, enraptured. “Uncle!” she said excitedly. “They're here! They're here! Is not this wonderful?”
Amabel smiled. She saw Heath pat her fondly on the shoulder and saw her smile up at him caringly. She watched as they stood together, looking out over the fields. As if the whole of the group on the wall disappeared and they were alone together, lost in their closeness.
Watching them, she felt a little stab of wistfulness. My husband has returned. And this time, I will realize that whatever is wrong with him is not my fault. I will love him as I choose to. It is my choice to love.
She smiled down at the young pair and waved.
Chrissie turned to shout up to her and Alina.
“They're here! He's coming back!”
It was unladylike to shout, or Amabel would have called a greeting down to her. Instead she waved cheerfully and looked out to the line of marchers.
Which was closer, now.
She leaned forward, gripping Alina's hand where it rested at her side. “They're here. He's here! Oh, Alina...”
She slit her eyes, searching the ranks. She felt a wild, pounding excitement well up in her heart. He’s here! Is he not? Please, please let him be here... If he was here, would he not be near the front?
She searched the lines of faces, feeling a growing panic. Please, let him have survived. Let him have come back! The depth of pain amazed her. She had not known she felt so deeply for him. Had not known she loved him.
She was gripping her sister's hand and had not realized she was doing it. Alina stiffened.
“Oh, sorry!” Amabel gasped. She looked at her sister's pale, tapering hand. Red crescents showed where her fingers had gripped it. She covered her mouth with her own hand in shock.
“He's here,” Alina whispered. “I am certain he is here.”
Amabel bit her lip and resumed her frantic seeking. He was not on the horse in the front row. He was not in the second row. Not in the third...
“There!”
She covered her mouth with her hand. Tears flowed down her cheeks as the relief coursed through. She leaned on Alina, who hugged her. Together, tears silent, they watched as the line of troops snaked through the moors and closer to the gate.
He was here. She could see his dark hair, the dark beard, the way his back was always straight. He was riding in the third row back, which surprised her. The beautiful white destrier was still carrying him, but he looked so very different from the man who’d left.
He was lighter, somehow. Face softer, eyes bright. He looked content, and proud and... happy. It was the only word she could think of. He radiated an easy, confident air that he not had before. Before, he had been all brittle pride and wounding. Now, he was at peace.
Broderick! She wanted to shout it, call it, cry it! She looked out over the fields and up into the sky. A swallow dipped and wove between the autumn clouds and then another. She smiled and felt fresh tears fall. It was as if her mother had sent them as a message, to tell her all was well.
Crying, she leaned against the merlon, feeling her knees buckle. All she wanted to do was run down and see him.
Below, they were lowering the drawbridge. She could hear men shouting, laughing, whooping. Somewhere inside the castle, a piper began to play. She heard the hooves as the first men rode under the bridge.
She looked down as Broderick looked up. She saw his face change, a smile flash across his features.
For the first time in over a month, she felt as if her heart was full of light. The moment was only a second, for he looked away and disappeared under the arch, heading up the streets into the town and thence toward the great hall itself.
In only a moment, she would see him.
She heard her uncle, leading the party inside so they could be ready to welcome the returning men. She turned to Alina. Alina smiled at her.
“Come on!” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “Let's go down.”
They did.
The great hall was laid out for a banquet. The tables were polished, the boards groaning under the weight of food. Amabel hardly noticed the gleaming candelabras, the shining benches, the fresh rushes strewn on the floor. All she noticed was the dais, where her uncle sat.
Duncan was there, and Heath, his thin, clever face wreathed in smiles. Chrissie was already there, seated opposite him, glowing in pale linen and enthusiasm.
Amabel held Alina's hand as they ascended the dais. She took the seat beside her uncle, Alina on his other side. Next to Duncan, Amabel noted, smiling.
After a moment or two, her uncle banged on the boards of the table, signaling silence.
“Our victorious troops have arrived!” he shouted with some flair.
The rest of the men-at-arms exploded into cheering, clapping, banging on the boards.
“Wel-come haim! Wel-come haim!”
Welcome home. Welcome home.
Broderick walked in. He looked up at her. He smiled. His eyes shone with a light Amabel had never seen there.
She stood. Flouting custom and not even noticing she did it, she raised her silver cup.
“Welcome home!”
The whole hall exploded into cheers and whistles. Broderick strode the next paces to the dais, where he trotted up the stairs. He reached her and with one gesture took her in his arms.
His lips on hers were hot and hungry, and Amabel felt her body melt, her soul fly.
“I love you, Broderick MacConnaway,” she whispered into his ear. Her fingers stroked his hair while her other arm held him.
“I love you, Amabel, my sweet. With all my heart. Now and forever.”
He was crying, and he did not care. They were both crying, smiling laughing.
They turned to face the hall. The men were hollering, clapping, stamping. The music started playing, the band striking up a lively measure. Everyone was happy.
Amabel held her man close, feeling her heart pounding slowly and noting she could feel his own heart, pounding through his tunic, beside her own.
She smiled at him and he smiled back. Together, they shared the heady claret, staining both their mouths.
The desire was rising in Amabel and the thought made her blush with a delicious excitement. She had no idea how she would feel, becoming Broderick's wife in truth – what that would mean for her, for them. She just knew that it was an adventure and she wanted, more than anything, to embark on it.
What the future would hold for them – living under the ruthless ambition of her uncle, who would doubtless be using Broderick to fulfill his military ambitions – she could not guess. All she knew was that, at that moment, her body was aching for his and she longed to be his wife in truth. To experience all that she had thought about, and heard about, but not yet felt.
They sat together and shared the best meal Amabel had eaten in months.