Reunions
Darroch’s heart lurched at the fear on his daughter’s face as she ran toward him, Blue at her side. Someone was approaching, on horseback by the sound of it. “Find Isabel yonder, behind the rocks,” he said sternly.
She nodded, red curls bouncing, and took off, obedient for once.
Drawing his sword, he hurried to the front rank and braced his legs, ready to meet the challenge. The dog followed him and stood to face the foe, tail rigid.
“Half a dozen, I reckon,” Grig muttered.
The newcomers showed no sign of slowing as they approached. The lead rider sat tall in the saddle, a MacRain plaid draped over his shoulder. “A nobleman judging by his bearing,” Darroch replied.
They reined to a halt in a cloud of dust a few yards away, but didn’t draw their weapons.
“Are ye the MacKeegan?” someone shouted.
Darroch wasn’t a chief so couldn’t claim to be The MacKeegan, but—
He was about to acknowledge his identity when Blue broke ranks and bounded towards the riders.
Their leader dismounted immediately and went down on one knee to greet the excited dog. “Blue,” he exclaimed, rubbing the hound’s ears. “Where’s yer mistress?”
Darroch’s apprehension fled. He sheathed his sword and strode forward, hand outstretched. “Isabel’s Uncle Boyd, I presume?”
“Aye, Sir Boyd Beaton, and ye must be the mon who jilted my niece.”
Darroch arched a brow, concerned this encounter might turn into a brawl after all, but Boyd held firm to the handclasp. “Dinna fash,” he said with a sly smile. “Fanny sent word the day ye were wed. She explained the entire plot when she arrived yesterday. Now where’s yer bride?”
*
Isabel crouched behind the rock, cooing reassuring words to the bairn clinging to her like a limpet. She was elated Kyla had decided to trust her, but hoped she’d spoken true and all would be well.
Her breathing steadied when an excited, tail-wagging Blue appeared and she heard familiar voices approaching. Hefting the child onto her hip, she peeked out from hiding, relieved beyond measure to see her Uncle Boyd striding alongside her husband.
“Good news,” Darroch quipped, taking Kyla from her arms. “He’s brought yer horse.”
“Aye,” Boyd rasped as he took her into his embrace. “’Tis good to see ye safe and sound.”
She wept into his plaid, unable to stem the tide of tears, despite the warmth of her husband’s hand on her back. “’Twas Ghalla’s plot right from the start,” she babbled.
“Fanny suspected as much when she first heard about the jilting.”
“Our cousin took good care of me.”
“And me,” Darroch added with a grin.
“Aye, we’ve been in contact. Who could have predicted ye’d end up on Harris at the same time as Isabel?”
“We might ne’er have discovered the truth,” Isabel said, chilled by the stark realization their fate could have turned out differently.
“And I wouldna have met the woman destined to be my bride,” Darroch observed, righting Isabel’s hat, his green eyes full of love that chased away the chill.
“And I wouldna have met ye, Boo,” Kyla told the dog.
Boyd chuckled. “Who is this bonnie lass?”
The bairn sucked on a fist and buried her face in her father’s neck.
“She’s pretending to be shy. This is my daughter, Kyla.”
Boyd eyed Isabel, a question in his gaze. She nodded her reassurance.
Her uncle executed a courtly bow. “Pleased to meet ye.”
Isabel preferred not to enter into an explanation of Kyla’s unwillingness to reply. “Tell me of my father,” she blurted out.
“According to Ghalla, he’s failing, but she willna let anyone into his chamber, so I havena seen him since his return from the Trotternish. The wound was to his forearm. Fanny and I deemed it preferable she enter Dungavin with ye. She’s waiting at the closest croft to the castle.”
Despite her relief Fanny hadn’t muddied the waters, anger surged up her throat. “She’ll nay stop me from seeing him.”
“The sooner we get there, the better,” Boyd agreed. “I sense a powerful force was at work to bring the two o’ ye together in Harris. But Ghalla is wily and I wouldna trust Tremaine as far as I could throw him.”
Blue growled his agreement.
Something Darroch had said earlier suddenly settled in her brain. “Ye brought Storm?”
Boyd smiled. “And a mount for yer husband.”
Her spirits lifted. She would ride proudly into Dungavin on her beloved horse with the man she loved at her side.
“That’s a relief,” Darroch teased with a wink.
*
Darroch’s relief was genuine, not because it meant he no longer had to carry his wife, but entering Dungavin on horseback would provide an important advantage. Isabel had the right to return home with dignity, and he resolved to do his utmost to wreak revenge on those who had sought to rob her of that dignity.
He would feel more like a chief’s son on horseback.
Isabel pressed her forehead to Storm’s face and patted his neck. The gelding nuzzled her shoulder. Darroch swallowed the lump in his throat, looking forward to the day he would be reunited with Barra.
“My lady,” he said, going down on one knee and meshing his fingers together.
Smiling, she allowed him to boost her into the saddle and he wasn’t surprised when she sat astride the horse. “Good thing ye wore the boots after all,” he teased.
She frowned. “What is it with ye and these boots?”
He laughed. “I’ll tell ye later.”
“I’ll leave some of my men to accompany yer foot soldiers,” Boyd told Darroch. “And I recommend they camp outside the castle proper.”
“I agree,” he replied, lifting Kyla onto his lap as he mounted. “No use raising suspicions as to why we’ve come.”
“Aye,” Isabel agreed. “Let Ghalla think we dinna suspect her schemes. I’m simply coming home to see my father with my new husband, my daughter and my cousin.”
“She forgot ye, Boo,” Kyla added, slapping her thigh.