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At least physically.
“Ye care for him as well.”
Kate flinched despite the softly spoken words of Kenna’s observation.
For a long moment, the two women stared at one another. Although Kate saw displeasure upon Kenna’s face at this newest revelation, she also thought to see understanding and a sort of kinship. Indeed, it felt good to have this awful secret out in the open, to have it known to someone who understood, someone who knew how painfully a heart could ache.
Swallowing hard, Kate bowed her head in shame. “Ever since,” she murmured, her voice almost inaudible, “he came to save us, I have been feeling… certain things.” She raised her eyes once more, afraid to look at Kenna.
For a long moment, Eoghan’s sister did not utter a word, her face half-shrouded in darkness. Then she exhaled slowly, and Kate could sense her fury being replaced by resignation. “Would ye care for a cup of tea?”
Surprised but pleased, Kate nodded, and together, the two women headed downstairs into the kitchen. The remnants of a fire remained in the hearth, and Kenna stirred it back to life. Soon, the scent of tea filled the air, and the two women sat down at the worktable, each a cup in front of them.
“I wonder how he does it,” Kenna voiced with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. “It must be witchcraft. Perhaps we oughta ask Mrs. Murray for a cure.” Something utterly helpless rested in her gaze, and yet Kate knew this woman to be brave. “I’ve loved him all my life, and then he left and I…” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I truly thought he’d declare himself upon his return.” Another scoff left her lips. “I must be a daft fool!”
“No,” Kate objected without a moment’s hesitation, her free hand reaching out and grasping one of Kenna’s. “No, you’re not. Of course, you’re not. You’re… You’re in love, and I suppose that makes one blind to many things. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
Kenna eyed her curiously. “What ye’ve heard?”
Almost embarrassed, Kate bowed her head, not daring to cast more than a furtive glance at the other woman. “I’ve never known love myself.”
“But ye’re married,” Kenna objected, the frown upon her face deepening.
This time it was Kate who scoffed. “Where I’m from, people do not marry for love.” She heaved a deep breath, reluctant to go on and yet eager to do so at the same time. “My husband never cared for me. Perhaps he could have once, but now it is too late.” As Kate continued to tell her story, she found an eager listener in Kenna, and it felt good to speak to someone other than Sarah, to someone who also felt a little bit broken.
Like herself.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A MOTHER AT LAST
Tentatively, Sarah stepped across the threshold into Heather’s chamber. It was a comfortable room, delicately furnished with warm colors and a dedicated hand. It possessed soul, and Sarah could see Heather’s generous and kind spirit in every corner of the room.
“You asked me here?” Sarah spoke up as Heather rose from an armchair near the hearth, setting aside her sewing. “Keir said—”
Holding out her hands, Heather swept toward her, a wide smile upon her face. “Aye, I did. There’s something I must show ye, and I hope that ye will cherish it as much as I did.” Excitement twinkled in Heather’s eyes, and Sarah wondered what this could be about.
Allowing Keir’s mother to pull her toward the enormous bed on the opposite side of the chamber, Sarah’s eyes grew wide. A most exquisite gown had been laid out upon it. The fabric seemed to flow like the water of a stream, small waves rippling along its path. At the same time, it shone almost golden in the late afternoon sun. Intricate patterns had been embroidered along the sleeves and down the front, like the swirls of an ancient language, its meaning long forgotten while its beauty persisted through the ages.
Awed, Sarah reached out her hand and tentatively touched her fingertips to the soft, cool fabric. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she gasped, overcome by the thought that this dress had been worn by many generations of MacKinnear women. Of course, she knew nothing about it, and yet there was not a single doubt in Sarah’s mind.
A wistful expression came to Heather’s face, and she sighed, clasping her hands together. “Aye, ’twas my wedding gown and my mother-in-law’s before me,” she confirmed Sarah’s thoughts. “I felt wonderful the day I wore it, and I hope that ye will as well.”
Sarah’s heart paused in her chest as she stared at her future mother-in-law. “You want me to wear it?” she asked disbelievingly.
Heather nodded. “Of course, only if ye wish, dear.” She reached out and grasped Sarah’s hands. “Since yer mother canna be here and offer ye her own wedding gown, I am most happy to offer ye mine.” She squeezed Sarah’s hands affectionately. “I’ve always wanted a tenacious woman at my son’s side.” She chuckled. “Believe me, he can do with a bit of a challenge in his life. It makes him a better man.”
Moved to tears, Sarah shook her head, unable to accept these kind words. “I am not tenacious,” she objected, afraid her mother-in-law had the wrong impression of her and would find herself disappointed down the line. “I am…”
Heather’s gaze narrowed; her blue eyes fixed upon Sarah’s. “Why would ye doubt yerself, lass? Ye stood against opposition and fought for yerself as well as others.” She dipped her head in an affirmative nod, emphasizing her words. “I’ll be proud to call ye my daughter. Verra proud.” Amusement teased her lips. “Believe me, the MacKinnear men need women like us.”
Sarah almost slumped to the floor at Heather’s words. Her knees grew weak and threatened to give out, her body wholly unprepared for such praise. Never once had her own mother voiced anything remotely like pride in her daughter, and now, here, Sarah stood in front of a woman who had become very dear to her over the past few days and who offered her her heart with such ease that Sarah feared she had strayed into a dream. Always had she wanted a mother like Lady Whickerton, who loved her children with all her heart, dried their tears, held their hands, and stood at their side no matter what, always proud, always supportive, always full of faith.
The compassionate expression that came to Heather’s face told Sarah loud and clear that her future mother-in-law understood her inner turmoil. “Ye’re one of us now, Sarah, and whatever happened in yer life before no longer need matter.” She gently grasped Sarah’s chin; her blue eyes insistent as they held Sarah’s. “Ye determine yer own fate. Ye choose who ye are, who yer family is, who ye love and at whose side ye stand.” A warm smile came to her face, one that whispered of encouragement and trust. “That, my dear, is freedom. That is what family means. That is what the MacKinnears have always believed ever since Yvaine and Calen first came to these shores.” She gave Sarah’s chin a playful pinch and then once more took both her hands within her own. “’Tis a clan tradition, one as dear to us as life itself, and we’re ready to fight to uphold it.” She gazed down at the golden gown. “Do ye wish to wear it? And dunna worry, I willna be offended if ye say no. ’Tis yer choice.”
Sarah’s vision blurred as tears streamed down her face. Never would she have expected to find a family on top of the man she loved. “I’d feel honored to wear it,” she murmured, her voice choked with tears. Sniffling helplessly, she wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, trying to regain her composure.
Heather smiled, her eyes shining with joy. “Ye’ll look beautiful in it.” She heaved a deep sigh, and a touch of sadness came to her gaze. “I had hoped my daughter would one day wear it.” She shrugged her shoulders in an almost helpless gesture, unable to explain how her life had been turned upside down by Yvaine’s disappearance. “My son said he spoke to ye of her.”
