Page 74

Then he wouldn’t lose the woman he loved. He also wouldn’t need to marry Euphemia. He wouldn’t need to produce a son who’d save the future king.

Silent, they walked down the wooden jetty towards the boat. The loch was still today, with no wind. The sun shone brightly and a thin, misty fog hung over the surface of the loch. It made the castle look like it was in the realm of faeries, not of this world.

Nature was waking up before the summer. Young leaves on trees and bushes were green, shiny, and tender. Fresh, shy grass was growing. He could smell the delicate scent of flowers—must be the apple trees down by the shore, he thought. They were shedding small, white petals onto the ground and the surface of the loch.

All that peace and beauty around him made the turmoil inside of him spin faster. As he helped Rogene get into the boat, it careened from side to side, just as his heart was lurching.

His heart was full of the dread of voluntarily going into a prison. Of losing something so precious, so valuable that one found it only once in a lifetime.

He got into the boat and told the man to row to the castle. As the boat began moving, he met Rogene’s eyes. She stared at him like she wanted to remember his every detail, and his heart gave another violent lurch.

They’d made love every night for the past four days after she’d told him about his son. Their lovemaking had been sad and desperate, and they’d known it would hurt them both later when they’d lose each other forever and would have only memories.

But he couldn’t stay away from her. He’d take her in any way he could have her. And if he’d have only memories of her, well…so be it. He’d cherish and treasure them his whole life. He’d take them out in his mind and relive them when he was lying with Euphemia, when he needed to bed her, when he was old, and gray, and most of his days had gone.

After a short while, the boat arrived at the jetty of Eilean Donan, and the man tied it to a pole. As they went down the wooden surface towards the castle, Rogene took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, locking their hands together. Her palm was cool and small and tender. Every step he took felt heavy, as if he were dragging boulders after his feet.

The closer they came to their love’s inevitable doom, the faster his mind raced, searching for ways to avoid it. Searching for ways to keep Rogene here. Wondering, again, was the destiny of Scotland more important than his personal happiness? Could he find another way to resolve this, have the child that would protect the future king and still have the woman he loved by his side?

They walked through the sea gate and into the greater bailey where houses and workshops stood, then through a palisade and into the second bailey. There, he turned to Rogene to suggest that they think again about her returning to her time, when he noticed a woman running towards them at full speed.

Trying to see who it was, he squinted, and a huge smile spread on his lips.

“Catrìona!” Rogene exclaimed and waved her hand.

They walked closer to the keep, and Catrìona didn’t stop but slammed into Angus, knocking the air out of him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Ye’re alive,” she whispered. “Ye’re here!”

He let go of Rogene and hugged his sister back. Catrìona’s tears wet his cheek. Lord, it was like when they were kids. She’d seemed so fragile and so sweet, and when she’d had a scare, she’d come to him and he’d tell her it was all right and as long as he was by her side, he wouldn’t let anything get to her.

Catrìona let go of him and hugged Rogene. “I’m so glad to see ye.”

When they broke the hug, Angus said, “What happened to ye? Is Raghnall all right?”

“We lost ye. We all got lost, but thankfully, Raghnall found me and two others, and we made our way here as soon as we could. Raghnall said he saw ye by the gate, but they began shooting arrows again, and we had to run. We only arrived yesterday. Raghnall has small wounds on his ribs and shoulders, a scratch on his thigh, but he’s all right otherwise. He’s with Father Nicholas, who’s now well and tending to him. The rest of the men are here in the castle, and I’m healing their wounds.”

“How many came back?” Angus said.

Catrìona’s eyes saddened. “Twelve.”

“Only a dozen?” Angus said. His life was not worth the lives of twelve honorable warriors, especially given that he’d need to marry Euphemia, anyway.

“I’m afraid so. But they’ll be so happy to see ye’re alive, both of ye.”

She grasped Rogene’s hands and squeezed them. “Thank ye for freeing him.”

Rogene smiled. “Don’t thank me. I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t.”

Catrìona’s gaze saddened. “Neither could I, but—”

She glanced at Angus and he frowned. Did she seem different to him? Sadder? Turned inward in a way? It was as if she wore something heavy on her shoulders. Her skin seemed a little gray and her eyes tired. Even her golden hair seemed to shine less.

“But what, sweet?” Angus said.

She bit her lip. “I’m supposed to leave for the convent at the end of this summer. But how can I serve God when I killed so many men that I lost count?”

Angus paled. Yes, he’d seen her fighting like a she-wolf, and he knew she’d likely have some trouble coming to terms with that, and it looked like he’d been right.