Epilogue
Wick Castle, Caithness, Northern Scotland
Spring 1153
The wind whipping her hair, Davina shaded her eyes and cast her gaze northward over the sea, eager for any telltale sign of sails. It had been nearly a fortnight since her husband had departed with Earl Harald. The meeting with Harald’s rival to the earldom was supposed to have been a parlay, but acts of treachery were common in such circumstances.
She always worried whenever Domnall left her but, thus far, God in His great beneficence had always returned him to her. In the short time since they had arrived here, she had come to love Caithness. It was a desolate place with wild winds, deadly cliffs and fierce seas. The lonely, flat, and treeless landscape to the west was a harsh contrast to the rolling Cheviot Hills and the bustling Borderland burghs where she had been raised. Nevertheless, she felt a sense of belonging that she’d never known since her early childhood at Crailing.
Picking up her basket, Davina continued her lone trek along the clifftop until she set her burgeoning basket down to rub her aching back. She’d spent the entire morning gathering clusters of dandelion and yarrow, and other wild growing herbs. Exploring the cliffs in search of roots and herbs had become her daily routine, but her advancing pregnancy magnified her discomfort.
Soon, their child would be born. The thought of their love bearing fruit filled her with inexpressible warmth and joy. Domnall had promised her nothing when he’d come to her at Haddington Priory, yet, he had given her everything she’d ever desired. It both thrilled and terrified her.
Once more, she looked out over the horizon but, this time, her heart leaped within her chest with a glimpse of white. A ship at last! Cradling the weight of her great belly with one arm, Davina jogged the narrow path leading back to Castle Wick.
*
Anticipation thrummed in Domnall’s veins the moment he glimpsed the castle. Although they had been wed for nearly a year, he could still barely stand to be away from her, even for a brief sojourn in Orkney. Every night away from her, wanting her had been physical and emotional torment. She had become essential to his happiness, to his very being.
Though he’d been reluctant to leave her, it had been well worth the trip, however. Rognvald, Harald’s co-ruler of the earldoms of Orkney and Caithness, was soon departing on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, which would leave young Harald solely in charge. Rognvald had called the Thing-meeting to publically acknowledge the nineteen year old as the sole ruler of Orkney and Caithness until his return. Naturally, Harald was jubilant to finally come into his own after living for so long in the shadow of such a great warrior.
Although Domnall had initially come to Caithness as nothing more than a hired sword, a bond akin to brotherhood had quickly forged between the two young men who had both been betrayed by King David. And now that Harald was secure in his own earldom, he would surely help Domnall to reclaim his own.
Domnall’s support in the Highlands was growing by the day. In recent months he had received a near steady stream of guests from all over the Highlands who came to pay their respects to the man they recognized as the legitimate heir of Moray. Unfortunately, the king still lived and MacAedh still languished in prison, but soon, Domnall hoped his kinsman would be free. He hoped that Malcolm would keep his word. But if he did not, Domnall would be ready to act.
As a reward for his service, Earl Harald had bestowed upon Domnall the governorship of Wick Castle. At last, he could give Davina the home she deserved and a safe place to birth and rear the bairn she carried in her belly.
Wick Castle was also close enough to Moray for Domnall to stay in contact with his kinsmen and friends. Alexander, Sibylla and the rest of his family had taken shelter with Faither Gregor at Portmahomack monastery, a two day ride by horse, and only a day away by ship with favorable winds.
As they approached the seagate, he gazed up at the fortification in hope of catching sight of Davina. Would she be waiting for him? Her time of confinement was coming soon, but their passion had not even begun to wane.
Snapping orders in his impatience, they moored the ship, but he left his men to unload the cargo. His priorities were elsewhere. He took the stone stairs by twos but it was his first sight of her, rather than the steep climb that made his breath come short. “Davina! Mo chridhe! I had forgotten how beautiful ye are.”
She sat in the solar with needlework in hand with her golden brown hair tumbling feely about her shoulders. She wore a loose gown that fell in soft folds that failed to conceal her protruding belly.
“Ye are home at last!” She rose at his entrance, her face flushed with a rosy tint and her green eyes shining.
“Aye. Home,” he repeated warmly as he took her into his arms. “Every time I hold ye, I am at home.”
Entwining her arms about his neck, she tilted her face for his kiss. He eagerly obliged, wondering that each time was still as sweet as the first.
“Are ye hungry?” she asked.
“Famished,” he answered lowly.
“Then I will call for an early supper,” she said.
“’Tis nae supper I hunger for mo chridhe.” The flicker in her eyes told him she understood his meaning.
“’Tis the middle of the afternoon,” she replied in a scandalized whisper.
“Which means we have hours until suppertime,” he replied with a meaningful curve of his lips.
“Hours?” her eyes widened.
“Aye. I wish verra much to make up for lost time… unless?” He pulled back wondering if there might be something more behind her hesitation than fear of shocking the servants.
“Unless?” she prompted.
“Tell me true, Davina, does it become burdensome for ye?” he asked, holding her gaze.
“Nae, Husband!” She shook her head in fervent denial. “I lie awake at night for missing yer touch.” She gazed up at him with a shy smile. “I would have ye take me now to bed if ’twould please ye.”
He cupped her face. “But would it please ye, Wife?”
“Twould indeed.” Davina’s eager lips on his quashed any further qualms.
END