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Castle Diabaig, the Highlands, Spring 1357

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Louise fidgeted all the way from the dock to the large heavy oak doors that heralded the entrance to the main room in the castle. Two Highlanders dressed in fine plaids and armed with axes held vigil.

“Open the doors!” ordered Brice.

Promptly, the two men sprung into action and began to push the massive wood. The hinges on the doorway creaked in protest all the way until it stood fully ajar. The soldiers then moved back into position so that Brice and his party could gain access.

“Remember to bow when ye are in the presence of the laird,” advised Murtagh to Louise. “Failing to do so will result in ye beheading.”

“Haud yer wheesht! Ye are making her nervous,” said Doogle, chuckling. He dipped his head to look her in the eye. “Ye will be fine, my love.”

A loud gasp erupted from the assembled clan members when they entered the Great Hall. There were shouts of welcome and acclaim from the more free-spirited men. And the unmarried women looked on with batting eyelids when they saw the newly acquired clansmen free from captivity in Bordeaux.

All the way up to the plinth, in the far reaches of the hall, clansmen and women lined the walls. The women were dressed in clothing Louise had never seen before. They wore all manner of plaids in various colors and patterns. The men were no less impressive in their own plaids that covered most of their bodies.

All of the men carried swords in their scabbards held to their waist on heavy leather belts. The gathering of people continued to vent their happiness with ribald acclaim as Louise and the others walked down the entire length of the hall that seemed huge even after having seen the prince’s palace in Bordeaux.

In the center of the wall to her right, there was a large fireplace with an elaborate overmantle with stone carvings depicting what she recognized as the clan’s coat of arms – Louise managed to sneak in a quick peek despite the fast pace they walked.

The chamber, though slightly frugal compared to the archbishop’s palace, was magnificent. It had the most beautiful decorations in the form of mullioned windows with extensive and ornamental frames. Various tapestries hung on the walls. Off and on and in between, banners hung loosely from the ceiling with the clan’s crest. The closer she got to the high table at the end, the more nervous she felt. Above it hung a chandelier that the Scots called a hart-horn. It was made of deer antler.

“We will wait here and wait for my maîther and faîther to emerge. Whatever ye do, don’t say a word unless spoken to. Is that clear?” Doogle looked at Louise seriously.

She nodded. This was more intimidating than meeting the Black Prince for the first time. She noticed that even Brice looked apprehensive as he gazed ahead. Louise looked up at Doogle. He, like his brother, stood as still as a statue.

When she heard one of the men standing by the door behind the table bang his spear on the stone floor, her heart nearly leaped from her chest up into her mouth.

The entire hall fell silent in an instant.

The other guard stepped forward to open it. The hinges creaked in protest as the heavy oak door shifted outward until it was completely ajar. Louise gulped. There they were, the Laird and Lady of the Clan Macleod Wallis.

Doogle’s mother looked resplendent. She wore a silk-checkered arisad. The plaid reached from the neck to the heels and was tied on her breast with a buckle of heavy silver. The ornate clasp with a large gemstone in the center denoted her rank.

The plaid, being pleated all around, was held in place below the breast with a belt of leather covered in places with plaques of silver and gems. Under it, a man’s vest made of silk with gold lace and plate buttons with fine stones covered her slender but firm physique.

Rounding off her appearance was a headdress of fine kerchief of linen attached straight and tight about the head, hanging down the back taper-wise. A large wisp of her red hair hung down her cheeks above the breast with the lower end tied with a knot of ribbons. She carried a serious expression on her face and her hair, depending on the way the light caught it, resembled Doogle’s.

Next to her walked the laird. He was as tall as his eldest son and even stronger in build than Doogle. He sported a thick red beard with streaks of gray, matching the unruly tuft of curly hair on his head that appeared to be as large as a lion’s.

A plaid about seven or eight yards long, which covered from the neck to the knees except for the right arm, mostly enclosed his body. Beneath the plaid, he wore a waistcoat and a shirt to the same length as the drape of the plaid.

His long stockings were made of the same stuff as the plaid, and his shoes were called ‘brocks’. Like the other men, a large claymore hung from his waist. He moved like a mountain, making his wife appear dainty in comparison. But Louise could immediately see that Mary was no pushover. She was royalty in all but name.

When the laird reached his position on the plinth, he peered down at them with his piercing blue eyes. There was no smile on his face. No betrayal of emotion that he was happy to see both of his sons alive, just complete regal candor, as if he were a king.

“Welcome back, my son.” His voice boomed through the entire hall like a crash of thunder.

Brice bowed his head. “I return Doogle to ye, Faîther.”

Alastair shifted his gaze from his eldest son until it came to rest on Doogle. “It is good to see ye well, laddie,” he said. For the first time, a smile flickered onto his face.

“And ye, Faîther. It warms my heart to be home,” said Doogle, bowing in honor of the laird.

“So, is aebody of a mind to tell me what the hell has been going on for all of this time?” asked the laird.

“In short, my laird, yer laddie got himself into a wee bit of a pickle at the Battle of Poitiers. The Sassenachs almost gutted him,” said Mungo, taking one step forward.

Louise saw Mary flinch at Mungo’s words. She could see that she wanted nothing more than to dash forward and take her boys into her arms. However, decorum and her standing in the clan required that she put her emotions on hold until her husband had concluded the audience.

But that did not stop her from scrutinizing Louise from head to toe. She managed a small smile at Louise that washed away any trepidation that she may have had in an instant.

“Aye, it is a long story. We found Doogle fighting a group of French tallywashers as he was defending this lassie over here,” said Mungo, pointing at Louise.

The laird’s gaze swiveled in her direction. To Louise, it was like having two daggers boring into her.

“Continue,” he commanded.

“Her name is Louise, and these are her parents,” said Brice.

“I see. And why are they here? There has to be some reason for it.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “You can’t be as blind as that, my love. Your son loves that pretty young thing,” said Mary, for once forgetting her station and chiding her husband in public for delaying the obvious.

“Does he now,” said Alastair, grinning at Doogle. “So, ye go off to France to fight a war, and ye return home with a lassie – is that aboot the gist of it, boy?”

Doogle nodded and returned the smile. “Aye, Da.”

“Well, it’s aboot bloody time. I was worried that no lass would have the mettle to put up with ye. It appears that the women in France are not only bonnie but feisty as well,” said Alastair, causing everybody to exhale and laugh.

The laird stepped off of the platform and walked up to Louise and Doogle.

“It does me good to see ye in these halls again.” He embraced his boy who was a man. He then turned to Louise. “Welcome, Louise. It is good that my laddie has found love.” He then took her in his arms.

Louise felt the pure raw power of the man in the strength of his arms. She had only ever met one other man with the same aura of power, and he was the Black Prince. Brice was still young – he would one day have his father’s force of appearance. No matter how much she admired and revered such men, she would always prefer Doogle’s nature. He was like a rock with a soft center that withstood the power of the ocean – unshakable and eternal.

“Welcome, Louise,” said Mary when she came to stand in front of them. Her husband was already busy greeting Brice and the others.

Louise curtseyed like Father Mortimer had taught her. She almost cried when she saw the love and affection Mary displayed when she embraced her middle son.

After they had said what needed to be said, Mary walked up to Alexandre and Lisette.

“Welcome to your new home,” said Mary to Louise’s parents.

Louise quickly translated what her future mother-in-law had said. With her help, they managed to exchange a few words. But Lisette soon outshone with her recently acquired knowledge of the language that visibly impressed Mary.

The homecoming was like a large celebration. In moments, the other members of the clan who were present in the Great Hall converged on Brice and the new arrivals. It was one of the warmest and most emotional moments in Louise’s life.

“BRICE!”

“DA!”

Louise turned around. Racing across the vast hall came a beautiful woman with hair the color of molten gold. Her face was almost angelic, and at the same time, she looked fierce. A boy of about five summers and a little girl tried to keep up with her. Louise deduced that the woman must be Skye and the children Brice’s son and daughter.

“Ye took yer time in getting here,” said Brice, kissing his wife. Then he promptly picked up his little girl and bent down to hug his son.

“We were up in the hills when young Argyll here spotted the ship,” said Skye, breathing heavily and referring to their son.

“I can’t wait to go there again. But first, I would like ye to meet somebody special,” said Brice. He led his small family to where Louise and Doogle stood conversing with the laird. “This is Louise; she is going to be Doogle’s wife.”

For a moment, Louise thought that Skye was going to ignore her and brush her husband’s declaration to the side. When a warm smile materialized on Skye’s face, Louise knew at that moment that the two of them would become great friends. There was something inherently pleasant about Skye’s manner.

“I am so happy that Doogle has found someone. And from what I can see, ye are the perfect woman for him,” said Skye. She took a step forward and embraced Louise. “Welcome home, Louise.”

Louise thanked Skye, and the two women started to talk as if they had known one another all of their lives. Louise then greeted her future niece and nephew. Instinctively, her hand moved to her tummy. Her mother, who stood close by, smiled knowingly.

“I thought that my daughter forgot that she has a faîther,” said Mungo, pressing himself a path through the throng of people that blocked his way.

“Da!” cried Skye. She fell into the big man’s arms.

It was a fine day and homecoming indeed.

Mungo scolded his daughter fondly for not being there the moment he entered the Great Hall.

Oh, Da, ye are indestructible. I always knew that ye would come home,” said Skye, laughing.

“Of course he always comes home – he has me to look after him,” said Murtagh.”

Skye greeted Murtagh with equal enthusiasm.

“So, Louise, tell me how the two of you met?” asked Mary.

Doogle and Louise exchanged glances.

“Ye tell the story, lassie,” said Doogle.

Louise swallowed. “I found your son by the river close to my home. One of the first things he said to me was that I was bonnie…”

Alastair who now joined the group burst out laughing – his mirth was infectious. At that moment, Louise knew that she never had anything to fear from him. He was powerful and intimidating, yes, but more than that, he was kind and a man with an excellent sense of humor.

“That sounds like my laddie.”

“But he was wounded, so I took him to a friend of mine – she helped heal him…” Louise continued to tell them all that had happened since the day she met Doogle.

“I dinnae believe that such men existed,” said Alastair when Louise told him about Jean Philippe and Gaston.

“Justice came through in the end though,” said Mary.

“Aye, but not withoot some close calls,” said Mungo.

“Ye should’ve seen Brice fight with the tallywasher. He was unstoppable,” said Murtagh.

And so the conversation escalated as the happy family spoke of things of old and discussed the future.

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A cacophonous roar of pleasure erupted in the hall when wine was handed out to all present. The Black Prince had given Brice enough of the beverage to keep the clan well oiled for over a year with the promise of more supplies in the future.

However, Mary was the only person who was not entirely listening to Louise’s story. She studied the young woman closely – there was something about her. She bloomed, and Mary knew that her love for her son was not the only cause. It just astounded her how well she concealed it. Only one person noticed her watchful scrutiny.

“Oui, c’est vrai – elle est enceinte,” said Louise’s mother, smiling.

Mary’s hand flew to her mouth. When the Frenchwoman nodded and confirmed for the second time, Mary cleared her throat.

“Husband, I think there is something wonderful that ye should know.”

“All I need to ken is right here, my love,” said the laird, inviting calls of agreement from the others.

Mary’s eyes glinted at Louise. “I think you forgot to tell us the most important detail of the story, Louise.”

Louise looked to Doogle who grinned at her before speaking.

“Your son and I are with child,” she said timidly.

“Ye are going to have a bairn,” shouted Alastair.

The hall erupted into jubilation. The clan’s people danced, drank, and sang traditional songs of good fortune for the life growing inside of the young Frenchwoman. Mungo and Murtagh argued with each other that they both had known about it. Brice and Skye were overjoyed that they would soon have a nephew or niece. The laird and lady just smiled at each other over having their sons back and the new additions to their family.

But it was Louise and Doogle who basked in their happiness most. They had been through hell and back. Now, they were together forever, and nothing could rip them apart. In his wildest dreams, Doogle never thought that he would be a father and Louise never thought that she would find a man like him. Life had spun its magic and created the perfect destiny for them – they never gave up hope even when the odds were stacked against them.

“What now, Doogle?” asked Louise.

“We have to decide on a name for him – how aboot, Muir, after my great-grandfather,” replied Doogle, beaming with pride.

Louise frowned. “How can you be so certain that it will be a boy?”

He shrugged. “If she’s a girl, then we shall call her, Cumina…”

It was the happiest argument in Louise’s life. So far, she did not like any of Doogle’s name suggestions. But it was all right because she was home now and safe.

As the wine began to flow more freely, the entire family was involved in the naming process. Louise laughed – she had to navigate carefully so as not to insult the laird because his suggestions were terrible.

The morning turned to afternoon and then to evening – and the revelry would not end until very early the next morning.

Love, beauty, and mystique were what the Highlands were all about, and the story would not end because there was a new generation of young Highlanders waiting to continue the tale and carve their destinies in the world.

Love and adventure on faraway shores would soon return to the Clan of Macleod, taking them to places none of them ever dreamed of before…