Edmund lifted Annora onto his pony’s saddle and mounted behind her for their journey up the track to the castle.
Tormod was waiting at the castle gate for them, his face wreathed in smiles. He helped Annora to her feet as Edmund dismounted, while a groom hurried forward to take the pony’s reins and lead him away.
Tormod spoke to Edmund in a low voice. “The Council members have gathered fer this morning’s meeting. I have told them everything I ken. All of us have been waiting tae hear of yer victory and the return of yer lady tae safety.”
Edmund lifted Annora into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the keep, where the Elders and Council members were assembled along with most of the castle staff.
All eyes were on Edmund and Annora as Tormod stepped up to speak.
“I give ye all our new laird, Edmund Sinclair MacNeacail of Scorrybreac,” he announced.
A mighty cheer broke out as a smiling Edmund strode forward with Annora in his arms.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later…
It was a great feast in celebration of Edmund’s lairdship.
The documents had been lodged with the Lord Lyon King of Arms, and Edmund Sinclair MacNeacail had at last been proclaimed Laird of Clan MacNeacail of Scorrybreac.
The Elders, all the Council members and their good wives, were present in the hall, as was Lionel MacLaren and the leaders of the Castle Guard. At the gathering were all the villagers as well.
The hall was filled with delicious aromas drifting from the kitchen. Cook and all the kitchen staff had labored for days over roasted venison, wild boar, duck and goose, along with a wide assortment of fruit custards and honeyed cakes that were more than plenty for every kind of sweet tooth.
Beside Edmund at the high table, Annora sparkled and shone, clad in a newly-sewn, silk gown courtesy of the seamstress. The long, flowing gown in a deep pink embroidered with roses and green leaves, was the perfect foil for her lustrous eyes and flowing blonde hair.
Laird Edmund’s heart skipped a beat as he gazed upon her beauty. There were times when he could only pinch himself to make sure he was not dreaming.
Only a few short months before he’d left Dùn Ara on the Isle of Mull for a brief visit to Skye to learn more about his heritage. Instead, he’d fallen in love with a beautiful lass, a clan and lands he’d never known. And now, here he was amid his own kin, proclaimed laird and surrounded by good souls he’d sworn to protect.
He looked around the hall. All these folk were there to celebrate the new Laird of Clan MacNeacail.
He laughed.
Annora turned to him. “What is it me love?”
“I’m laughing because I can scarce believe all this.”
Yet, despite the joyous occasion and the mirth and merriment that bloomed across the hall, there was a small, hollow place in Edmund’s heart.
What he wished for, more than all this, was for the Lady Annora to be his wedded wife. To be proclaimed alongside him and to share fully in all the good wishes and the allegiances being showered upon him.
He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips. “The next feast to be held in this place will be our wedding feast, lass. ‘Tis me vow.”
“’Tis me hope also, Edmund. I wish naething more than fer permission tae become yer bride.” She sighed. A letter had come from Sir Bertram declaring that he intended to petition the English king to enforce their betrothal and Annora had been left shaken by this.
Edmund leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Dinnae fash, me lady. Radcliffe is whistling in the wind. The petitions fer the dissolution of both yer and Tyra’s betrothals will have reached King Robert by now. He is far too pragmatic a monarch tae permit a Scots clan to be allied with an English Baron if all it takes tae prevent it is a simple stroke of his pen.”
She grinned up at him. “What ye say makes sense. Yet I am still afraid that Sir Bertram has the law on his side and will make trouble fer us.”
He shook his head. “As soon as word comes from King Robert, the priest shall publish the banns and our wedding plans will proceed.” He squeezed her hand. “Ye will be me wife, safe from any Englishman, and Tyra shall be free of MacDonald once and fer all.”
At that moment, as if at the mention of her name, the Lady Tyra appeared beside them, clad in a gown of blue velvet, looking more lovely than he’d ever seen his half-sister. The sparkle had returned to her tawny eyes, her brow had smoothed and she stood tall and slender, with a regal bearing that always drew admiration.
“This is a wonderful feast, braither.” She looked around, smiling. It was a delight to Edmund that there had been a thaw in the ice that had kept them apart while she was with MacDonald. Now, at last, they could begin the long process of learning about each other and claiming their relationship of brother and sister.
Only yesterday Edmund had visited Laird Harris MacDonald, who was still languishing in the Scorrybreac dungeon.
