A Good Omen
As arranged, Grig and his crew had brought the Banamhara back to Trumpan from Ywst. It sat ready and waiting when they arrived.
Kyla and Blue climbed over the side without hesitation, but getting Storm aboard was another matter entirely, despite the hound’s woof of encouragement. The gelding reared, whinnied and bucked.
“First time on a boat,” Isabel explained, clearly upset at her horse’s distress. “Let me lead him.”
The animal calmed as soon as she took the reins from the sailor, and allowed her to lead him up the ramp. “I’ll probably have to stay with him the whole voyage,” she said.
“The weather promises fair, so ye should have no problem,” Darroch replied, impressed with her gentle control. The horse trusted her. It increased his anticipation at reuniting with Barra. He helped her secure the animal in the belly of the boat.
The brisk wind filled the sail as soon as they left harbor. Darroch braced his legs and inhaled deeply. “I love the feel of a ship beneath my feet,” he shouted.
“Me too,” Kyla echoed from where she stood at the prow, the dog at her side.
Isabel laughed. “She even mimics yer stance.”
Chuckling, he made his way back to his wife who had one arm clamped firmly around the mast. He nibbled her ear. “Aye, there’s someone else I’d rather have beneath me.”
The wind had already burnished her face, but her skin heated as she pressed her body to his arousal. “Sailing seems to get ye all excited,” she breathed.
“’Tis ye gets me excited, Wife. I’d love to whip off yon hat…”
She reached for the bonnet. “Nay. I’ll look like an ugly witch if the wind catches my hair.”
He shook his head. “If ye live to be a hundred, I’ll still think ye’re beautiful.”
She eased away and patted her belly. “What about when I’m fat and round with child?”
It took him a moment but then the glint in her eye cleared the fog. “Ye’re expecting my bairn?”
She nodded.
He’d been filled with remorse and uncertainty when told he’d sired a child with Elspeth. Isabel’s glad tidings caused his loins, his heart and his head to swell. He had an urge to strut like a rooster. Instead, he kissed her, delving his tongue into her mouth. She clung to him, humming only a minute protest when he pulled off her hat and let the wind enfold them both in her tresses.
“’Tis a good omen,” he whispered when they at last broke apart.
“Aye,” she replied.
*
The harbor was a short ride away from Dun Scaith but the fortress loomed large atop a rocky promontory. Isabel had expected an imposing castle, but her first sight of the grim walls filled her with dread. For Darroch’s sake, she kept the smile plastered on her face. He looked worried enough for both of them, and Kyla clung to Isabel’s skirts as if she was being taken to the scaffold. Even Blue whimpered.
Her husband had sent word of their arrival ahead and was clearly disappointed that his father wasn’t there to greet them. Only a stable lad waited on the shore with extra horses. “’Tisna a good omen,” he warned as they led Storm back onto land.
Isabel’s spirits lifted a little when a loud neighing caught Darroch’s attention and a broad smile lit up his face. “Barra,” he shouted, striding off to reunite with his beloved horse.
Kyla took her hand. “He loves Barra,” she explained. “Like ye love Storm. I dinna have a horse.”
“When ye’re old enough we’ll get ye a pony,” Isabel assured her.
“Grandpapa willna allow it,” the bairn replied sadly.
“We’ll see about that,” Isabel muttered under her breath.
As she watched Darroch fussing over his horse, she determined not to let what she knew of Stewart MacKeegan influence the way she behaved. By all accounts, he was a man who enjoyed instilling fear in others. She hunkered down next to Kyla. “Listen. Yer grandpapa doesna ken ye can talk now. When ye see him again, I want ye to act just like Ian did when he came home to Dungavin.”
The lass pressed a finger to the dimple in her chin. “Polite, ye mean.”
“Aye, and dignified.”
Kyla frowned. “I dinna ken how to be digfied.”
Isabel chuckled inwardly. Truer words never were spoken. “Follow my lead.”
*
Darroch dismounted when they reached the walled bridge that joined the castle rock to the mainland. He lifted Kyla down then slapped Barra on the rump, confidant the horse would find his way across as he had countless times before.
Storm was another matter. There was no guarantee Isabel would be able to control the horse if it sensed the roiling surf far below. He reached to help his wife dismount. “We’ll walk across this first time,” he explained. “I’ve seen horses throw riders when they’ve been forced to cross. Storm might just follow us on his own.”
She acquiesced without argument and held Kyla’s hand. He took his daughter’s other hand and they walked slowly across the bridge, Blue loping warily behind them, sniffing the air. For the first time, Darroch felt he was coming home, with his family.
“Dinna look over the wall,” Kyla advised.
He chuckled, but she was right. He was used to it, but even he found the sight daunting sometimes when the weather was rough.
“I might be sick if I do,” Isabel replied with a sly smile, reminding him once again of the good news he hoped to impart to his sire.
Storm hesitated for a minute or two, then stepped onto the bridge. He walked slowly to the drawbridge where they waited, tossing his head and snorting.
Isabel made a fuss of him before Michael took back the reins. “This is my wife’s horse,” he explained. “Treat him with the same care and attention ye lavish on Barra.”
“Aye,” Michael replied with a broad grin. “’Tis good to see ye back, my lord, and to meet yer bride. Welcome to Dun Scaith, Lady MacKeegan.”
“Thank ye,” she replied with a smile.
Michael’s blush convinced Darroch that Isabel had won over the first castle servant she’d met.
He opened the door to the keep and led the way up the steep steps to the main castle, holding tightly to his wife’s hand. At the top, they entered the Great Hall.
He’d hoped for a crowd gathered to offer his bride a warm welcome.
A stone-faced Stewart MacKeegan stood alone on the dais, arms folded across his chest.