Athol rode home that night with a warm glow inside him. It was the first time in an age that he had been with a woman—and what a woman! He felt like screaming for joy, but resisted the urge, since there were other travelers on the same road, but he could not get the smile off his face. When he went to bed he relived every moment of his and Maura’s encounter. He had to see her again. He just had to. Maura went back to the party for a while and joined Grant. They made a handsome couple as they circulated around the gathering.

But Lyle was uneasy. There was something about Maura he did not trust. She was a stunning woman, but she was rather too fond of herself for his liking. He could not pin down quite what it was, but he did not like her. He felt instinctively that there was something sneaky and deceitful about her.

Maura's and Grant’s betrothal ceremony would take place two days hence, and he wanted it to be done with so that she and Grant could go back where they came from. Fort Augustus was a long way away. Lyle was very glad that she did not live in the Sutherland region, for he sensed that she spelled trouble. Little did he know that the trouble had already started.

Later that night, when the gathering had dispersed, Maura welcomed another lover into her bed. He came in very quietly, then undressed and lay down beside her.

“Is our plan working?” he asked. There was a smile in his voice. “You snared the prey?”

“Indeed, I did,” she said smugly, “he is well and truly trapped—ours for the taking!”

“You clever, clever girl!” He laughed triumphantly. “We make a good team - in every way!”

“We do,” she said seductively, “now show me our other kind of teamwork.”

“You vixen,” he growled and kissed her.

Maura and Grant’s betrothal ceremony was a very quiet affair attended only by the Shaw family, the betrothed couple, the Murrays, and the Andersons. After it was over they had a feast in the dining room at which a moderate amount of wine and a lot of whiskey was drunk. Athol drank more than anyone else to dull the pain inside him. Maura looked gorgeous and it almost broke his heart to watch her.

Shortly after Ruaridh, Una, and Davina had gone home, Ruaridh began to complain of stomach cramps. He had a fever and was sweating copiously. His face was twisted in pain as he bent over and vomited on the ground outside the castle. He was as red as a beetroot.

“What do you think is wrong?” Una asked fearfully.

“I think,” Davina said dryly, “that it’s a combination of shellfish and alcohol. They are two things that do not marry well, Mother.”

Una laughed or tried to, but she was desperately worried. “But we all ate the same things, Davina,” Una pointed out.

“But we didn’t drink quite so much,” she replied, “and our bodies are all different.”

Just then Ruaridh came back in, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“How are you feeling, Father?” Davina asked. “Any better?” She looked at him anxiously and he gave her a weak smile.

“Better now, my darling.” He smiled, then grimaced. “Get me to bed. I’ll be fine soon.”

They both put an arm around him and led him upstairs.

“I’m sure he’ll be better in the morning, Mother,” Davina said, wrapping her arms around Una. “Probably had too much to drink, as I said.”

“You’re right,” said Una with a tremulous smile. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” They hugged each other then went to bed.

In the morning Ruaridh was feeling much better and was able to get out of bed, although he could not even look at a plate of food. He was able to drink some ale and a nibble a bannock a while later. By noonday, he was walking around quite normal again.

Una sighed with relief. “I thought he was really ill,” she said, tears glinting on her lashes. “He looked so feverish and… I was so scared.”

“Well, he’s going riding now, Mother,” Davina said and laughed. “So, I would say he’s fine, wouldn’t you?”

Una paused for a moment then shook her head. “Go with him,” she pleaded, “please. Just to make me feel better.”

“But Mother—”

---

“Please.” Una took Davina by the shoulders. “I’m sure everything is fine but… just in case.”

Davina scanned her mother’s face, frowning. She had never seen her look like this before. She nodded and hurried out. When she caught up with Ruaridh, he turned around and smiled widely at her.

“Davina!” he said delightedly, “this is an unexpected pleasure! I can’t remember the last time we rode together.”

“Must have been this time last year,” she replied, thinking back. He looked at her and smiled.

“You’re such a good girl,” he said, reaching over to take her hand. “I don’t deserve a daughter like you.”

“Nonsense, Father!” She picked his hand up and kissed it. “It’s I who don’t deserve you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiled at her sweetly and disengaged his hand from hers.

A few seconds later, as if in slow motion, Ruaridh slumped forward in the saddle and fell off his horse. His head hit the stony ground with a sickening thump. Davina slid off Daisy in a fraction of a second and bent over the limp figure of her father. His head was thrown back at an odd angle and as she put a hand in front of his mouth she realized that he was not breathing.

He was dead, and she shook her head in disbelief. This was her father. He could not be dead! Not her father! She pulled him up and shook him.

“Live, Father, wake up, wake up!” she begged, but his body was limp and his head lolled back on its broken neck. She threw back her head and howled. “No!” she screamed. She stood up and looked down at him, wondering what she should do. Eventually, she leaped onto Daisy again and spurred her into a gallop.

When they got to the castle they skidded to a stop and she dismounted then ran inside, screaming for her mother. Una came running down the stairs and Davina threw herself into her arms.

“Father’s gone,” Davina wailed, “he fell off the horse and hit his head on the ground. I could do nothing.”

Una took her by the shoulders and hugged her tightly. To Davina’s surprise, she was quite calm. “I knew something was wrong,” she said softly.

Davina was crying uncontrollably. Una stood holding her for a while longer, then gently pushed her away. “We have to go and retrieve his body,” Una said softly. There were unshed tears in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. “Did he say anything to you? Any last words?”

“He told me he loved me,” Davina replied, still sobbing.

Una nodded and smiled. “Thank God,” she whispered breathily, “his last words were so typical of him. He is - was - a very loving man. What am I going to do without him?” She paused for a moment then visibly pulled herself together, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin. “I’m going to get a cart, but I am riding out to see him, to make sure they are gentle with him. Do not come with me. I need to be by myself for a few minutes.”

Davina nodded, then watched as her mother went outside and began to organize the transport of her husband’s body back to the castle. She dragged herself upstairs, threw herself on her bed and sobbed her heart out. She remembered days on the beach with him when they would pick over the sand for seashells then take them home and put them in clay bowls. They would skiff flat stones across the surface of the waves and see whose would go the farthest.

There were nights in front of a log fire when he sat her on his lap and held her tightly, singing to her and rocking her to sleep. She remembered his smell, a spicy oil that he used to rub on his face and cheeks, a faint odor of sweat and another smell that was just him—just her father. It was unbelievable that she would never see him again.

Then she had another thought. What had killed him? What had made him so sick the night before? And what had caused him to lose consciousness and break his neck? Oh, Nanny, she thought sorrowfully, I wish you were here to help me.

She sat up and wiped her eyes. She could hear the wheels of the cart and the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves. She went downstairs slowly, dreading what she would see yet knowing that she had to see it. Her mother was standing by the cart praying and weeping, and the servants were gathering around it, many of them crying too. They made way for Davina so that she could stand beside Una and she put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. The body was covered in a blanket and after a few moments, Davina drew it back to reveal her father’s face. He looked calm and serene.

“Look, Mother,” she said, trying to sound comforting although her heart was breaking. “See how peaceful he looks. He is with God now in Paradise, happier than we ever will be on this earth, and we will see him again.”

Una nodded, smiling through her tears. Davina kissed his cold lips softly and Una did likewise, then Davina led them all in prayer.

“Lord God,” she began, “you have called your servant Ruaridh home to be with you. We who love him and are left behind mourn his loss, but although we are saddened by his death we know it is your will, and your purposes are beyond our understanding. Please comfort us in our time of sorrow and help us to bear it until we are reunited in Heaven. In your holy name, Amen.”

They all chorused ‘Amen’ and four of the male servants picked up the body and carried it upstairs to his bedroom, where they laid him gently on the bed. Una and Davina sat beside him for a while, each taking one of his cold hands in their warm ones.

They said nothing, just looked for a long time at his still white face. There was a little blood on the blanket under his head, but Una hardly noticed it. She would keep the bloody blanket, she decided, because there was a tiny part of her husband on it.

“He had such bright blue eyes,” Una mused, smiling and running a hand over his white-streaked hair. “When I met him, I was completely overwhelmed by his piercing gaze. He had beautiful eyes and the way he used to look at me…" She shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

Davina sighed and stood up. “Has anyone sent for the priest?” she asked. “We need to organize his funeral.”

Una nodded, let go of Ruaridh’s hand and followed Davina to the door. She gave him one loving backward glance then closed the door softly behind her.