Chapter Seventeen
At gloaming, snow flurries still flittered through the air as Colin stood in the burial ground, by his father's grave. They had ridden three hours and arrived back moments ago. Bryce and most of the other men had gone inside the castle walls. Four guards, including Warton and Rusty, stood around Colin at a distance of twenty paces, giving him the privacy he needed. The other two had been his father's bodyguards, but now, since Colin would soon be inaugurated as the new chief, they were assigned to guard him.
He stared at the simple wooden cross with his father's name cut into it. Soon it would be replaced with a carved sandstone grave slab befitting a chief. He stared at the black sod and the dried heather and greenery his mother had placed there. He knew his da lay beneath, but was still unable to fully comprehend it.
"I'm sorry, Da," he whispered. "I let you down. I allowed our enemy to come back here and massacre you." Regret speared him. "If only I'd been thinking… If only I'd realized…" But, nay, Kristina had snagged all of his attention at Bearach. He had been so taken with her, he'd been able to think of little else. He felt like such a daft fool.
No more. He would dedicate his life to bringing his da's murderer to justice.
"Riders approaching!" Warton announced.
The four guards closed ranks around him. "Mayhap we should escort you back to the castle," Rusty said.
Colin glanced down the hill, seeing a party of three dozen or more people arriving, most on horseback. They appeared in no hurry, or maybe their horses were tired from a long trek.
Colin shook his head. "'Tis not Holme. He wouldn't have that many men."
As the party increased its pace and moved closer, he saw Neacal and his men, along with the MacKenzies. And several women?
"What the devil?" Narrowing his eyes, Colin glared. Aye, some of the riders wore long skirts. Surely Neacal hadn't brought Anna and… "Kristina," Colin whispered. Indeed, she was on the horse beside Anna's. Why had she come? He muttered a curse, feeling gutted once again. Why did she wish to rub salt in his wound? Dangle before him the very thing he wanted most in the world but could not have?
Mayhap she has changed her mind.
The ridiculous thought teased and taunted him, near making him lightheaded. She had already ripped out his heart. Putting it back into his chest was not going to be such an easy task.
***
As Kristina and the others in their party approached Rhodie Castle, she barely discerned the blurry forms of men on a hill in the distance, near a small stone kirk with a steeple. She squinted, trying to see better. They stood in the burial ground, surrounded by many grave slabs and tombstones.
Her heart drummed hard with the tumultuous combination of nervousness and excitement, because she might see Colin for the first time within a few moments—but also with sadness because of his loss.
With the snowflakes flickering in the twilight, 'twas too dim and indistinct for her to see clearly. And even if she could see the men, she wouldn't know Colin on sight. Still, she had a gut feeling one of the men was him, visiting his father's grave. She had so wanted to be here to support him during the funeral and burial, but that had been impossible. They'd traveled as quickly as they could after hearing the tragic news.
Minutes later, as they approached the kirk-yard, the five men strode away from the new grave and exited the burial ground through the gate. Melancholy consumed her as she recalled, yet again, that she would never meet his father, whom he'd held so dear.
Even though she'd never seen Colin with her eyes, only with her hands and her heart… and in her dreams, she knew which man he was. The only one who drew her attention. The only one who stared directly at her. Tall and handsome with sandy hair. Although she could not quite perceive his expression, she felt his dark and tormented pain, and it near broke her heart. She hung her head and stared at the snow-dusted ground, feeling something powerful in Colin calling out to her, raking through her soul.
She refused to look at him now, although she wanted to more than anything. Nay, she wanted to tell him in private about her returned sight and didn't want him to find out before then. She hoped he would be glad. Her heart rate sped up, and her icy hands sweated within her gloves as she held the bridle loosely.
When footsteps approached, she felt his anguish even more. Her ability to detect others' feelings had amplified during her years of blindness.
"Thank you for coming, Neacal." Colin's voice slid down deep within her, bringing her soul to life, but at the same time, his grief frayed her control. The wind chilled the tears welling in her burning eyes. She watched the men from the corners of her eyes.
"I'm sorry we're late." Neacal dismounted and gave Colin a warrior handshake. "I wish we could've arrived before the funeral, but the ladies wished to come and pay their respects, too. We could not travel as fast."
"'Tis understandable. I'm glad you've all come." His voice was deep and desolate, devoid of all cheer. Kristina had never heard this tone of voice from him before.
"Your father was a great man, Colin," Neacal said. "And a revered chief."
"I always thought so, and I thank you."
"You have my sympathies." Cyrus MacKenzie shook his hand, as did his two brothers, who had also dismounted.
"Have you found Red Holme?" Neacal asked.
"Nay."
"We're here to help," Cyrus said.
