"I must apologize in person," Kristina said. "And I want to be there for him during his time of grief. Even if it puts my life in danger, 'tis a risk I'm willing to take, especially if I have a small chance in receiving his forgiveness."
"Have you truly changed your mind about marrying him?" Neacal asked. "I'm sorry to say this but… if you haven't, there's no need to go. 'Twould only cause him more heartbreak and pain."
She liked that Neacal was forthright with her, and she respected him for it. "Aye, I have always wanted to marry Colin. I was merely trying to spare him the burden and embarrassment of having a disfigured and disabled wife."
"I'm glad you've realized that would never be the case. You bring him great joy, and he told me he is proud to have you on his arm."
Tears burning her eyes, Kristina hung her head. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt him. I love him."
Anna pulled Kristina into her arms for a tight embrace. "There is no need to cry now. You love him and he loves you. 'Tis simply a matter of getting you to him. And your worries will be laid to rest."
"I'm still concerned about you ladies going along in our party," Neacal muttered. "Red Holme is vicious and unpredictable."
***
Colin's chest and stomach ached as his father's funeral procession got underway. He donned a strong façade for the sake of his mother and his clan. At the front of the procession, three pipers played the Cameron chief's march. The shrill sounds of the bagpipes echoed off the stone walls, and the icy wind carried them away toward the mountains.
His mother held his elbow as they followed four strong clansmen carrying his father's casket upon their shoulders across the bailey. His ma sobbed and, losing control at times, wailed out her grief. He knew 'twas real and not the keening for show practiced by many clans. Listening to her was hellish for him. Her agony magnified his own, and the chill wind near froze the tears welling in his eyes.
Bryce came upon their ma's other side, helping her to walk when she faltered.
"I can get a wagon for you to ride in," Colin murmured to her.
"Nay." She shook her head emphatically. "I'm not as weak as you think I am."
Well, he was glad for that, at least. He just hoped she was being honest.
The whole clan, even the crofters from miles around, followed and gathered into the long, slow funeral procession toward the chapel a short distance outside the castle walls, sitting in the midst of the burial ground.
After the casket was carried inside, the clan filled the chapel to overflowing.
Hundreds mourned the loss of his father, for he had been a much admired, respected and beloved chief, a strong leader. After being notified by messenger, clansmen and women from the far reaches of Cameron lands had arrived only that morning to pay their respects and tell stories of how the late chief had helped and honored them over the last few decades. Many recounted tales of the battles they had fought alongside the former chief, extolling his bravery and valor.
Colin had hoped Neacal would be able to make it to the funeral but, as of yet, he hadn't arrived. 'Twas expecting too much, he knew, for 'twas a long journey.
Sitting on the hard oak pew, Colin shifted and glanced across his mother's head at Bryce, who sat on her other side and looked just as miserable as Colin felt. Once the minister, Reverend MacAbee, had spoken at some length about what a good man Chief Maitland Cameron was, he said a prayer.
When the prayer ended, Colin opened his eyes, finding himself once again faced with the most tragic moment of his life. His father was gone and he was never coming back. Colin had no choice but to accept the finality of it, and he had to be strong for his clan.
Never had Colin imagined he would lose his father so young. He had expected Da to one day, twenty or thirty years from now, be an ancient elder with a long white beard.
'Tis as it should be, my son.
It was almost as if Da whispered the words into his ear.
Nay, it never should've happened like this—not an ambush. Murder. The dreadful and heartrending tragedy of it struck him yet again, constricting his lungs.
The clansmen carried his father's casket outside into the whipping wind where a grave was being dug on the spot they had chosen earlier, next to Colin's grandfather's grave.
A short distance away, a lone piper played a lamenting ballad as mourners gathered around the open grave. Colin had never endured anything so painful and final as watching his father's body being lowered into the earth while his mother clung to his arm, sobbing. He prayed this loss would not be too taxing on her. Although his mother and father's marriage had been arranged by their parents, they had been loving toward one another since his earliest memories. He only hoped he could have a marriage as happy as theirs had been, but 'twas looking doubtful.
***
Using his sword, Red Holme hacked at the large, thorny gorse bushes, bramble briars and dried thistles guarding the secret passage exit gate. Dobson helped him, along with one of the new men, Robertson. Scroggie was back with the horses and the additional man he'd hired recently.
Hell, he would have to sharpen his sword again after this. What they needed was an axe for wood chopping. But they didn't even have a Lochaber axe at the moment.
This gate was about a quarter mile from the castle walls and, by the looks of it, no one had been out through the gate in over a decade. He doubted the daft Camerons even knew of its existence. This prickly vegetation had hidden it for many years, and he was glad. If he could get the iron gate open, he could easily slip up the secret passage and into the castle without anyone knowing of it until it was too late. He grinned.
