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It was his usual answer, what he always said when she or Fenella or Ma asked how he was feeling. Strong as a mountain, my love. Finer than I was yesterday. He would be saying it even in his grave, Ma had joked. Lorna smiled a little at her father's resilience for it was one thing they had in common.
"Ye asked tae see me," she said.
He cupped a hand over his mouth as a rack of coughs stole the words from him. Lorna filled an empty glass on his bedside table with water and lifted it to his mouth. Her grip was firm and steady whereas his sips were slow. After a moment, he gestured that he had had his fill, and she put the glass away.
"How are yer preparations coming along?"
Despite feeling like a bundle of nerves about her upcoming journey, Lorna beamed. "Tis going well, Pa. We're done packing, and the carriages are ready tae my knowledge."
Laird MacKenzie nodded. "How do ye feel?"
Lorna's chest heaved as she let out a heavy sigh. "More terrified than I've felt about anything else in my life."
Lorna's father lightly clasped his hand over hers. "There is naething tae fear, my dear."
Lorna almost scoffed at that. "Except my soon marriage tae a man I've never met, that is."
Father smiled at that. "Aye," he agreed. "But fear is good too."
"And how so, Faither?"
He had a faraway look in his eyes as he answered, "It helps us think deeply before we act."
Lorna watched her father, the droop of his shoulders, the distant look on his face. "What do ye mean, Pa?"
Laird MacKenzie did not answer, only shook his head. He rubbed his chest, a trick he did to prevent more coughs from overcoming him. "Ye'll be journeying with yer Ma and sister," he finally said.
"Ma and Fenella and ye," said Lorna. She did not mean to sound insistent but there was a strange look on Pa's face, and she feared what he might be saying, what he had yet to say.
"Ye will nae need me," said laird MacKenzie.
Lorna clutched her father's hand tighter than she meant to, then let go. He was a frail old man, she did not want to compound his pain. "Pa, no.''
"I cannot journey with ye, Lorna. Not in this state. I'd slow ye down, and I dinnae want that for ye." He patted her shoulder. "I trust ye and yer sister. I trust yer Ma to offer ye guidance and counseling when you need it the most." He reached for her hands and clasped both of them in his. "But I know ye. I trust that ye will let wisdom, patience, and understanding lead the way. Unlike," he said, then coughed lightly, "unlike me."
"What do ye mean, Faither?" she said but he only shook his head.
"Whatever you do, do not let your emotions lead yer way, Lorna. Not hurt, not anger. Especially not anger."
She stayed awhile, offering him water when he coughed – listening to his words of advice. She was sometimes confused but she let her father say all that he wanted to say without interruption.
She would chew on his words later and try to make better sense of them; deduct her own meaning, but for now, her father counseled her and she listened. When he was done, he wrapped her in a brief but not unaffectionate hug.
Then, he cupped her face in his palms. "The destiny o' our entire clan rests on yer shoulders now," he said.
They were great words from a great man and while they terrified her, they also made her feel empowered; determined to live up to expectations.
Lorna would do right by her people and fulfill her purpose. She would come together in marriage with Arran of the MacLean clan, in a union of peace and mutual respect.
So long, of course, as her future husband did not make this difficult for her.
CHAPTERTHREE
Lorna slept for most of their journey.
She opened her eyes every so often and asked, "Where are we now?" and each time Fenella answered in a singsong voice, obviously enjoying her frustrated anticipation and desire for the journey to be over already, "Highlands," she would say. "Highlands still."
When finally the castle walls came into view, Lorna's eyes shot open and she straightened in her carriage seat.
