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Sarah nodded. “He did.”
During their time in the woods, Keir had not only spoken to Sarah of the legend of Yvaine, a woman who had lived centuries ago and been the origin of the MacKinnear clan, but he had also told her of his adopted younger sister, who had been named after their clan’s founding lady. His family had stumbled upon Yvaine out in the woods one day, unable to discover where the girl belonged. After that, she had become their daughter, their sister, their family… until the day she had vanished, not a trace of her left, as though the earth had swallowed her.
A sudden smile came to Heather’s face, one that whispered of perseverance rather than joy. “Mrs. Murray believes that Yvaine was never truly from this world, and that the fairies fetched her back home.”
Sarah reached for her future mother-in-law’s hands. “Yes, she told me so. Everyone loved her dearly, did they not?”
Heather nodded, tears misting her eyes. “Aye, they did. She was one of a kind. I wish ye could’ve met her.”
Sarah nodded, wishing the same thing, saddened by the thought that as dear as Yvaine had been to everyone, she would forever remain intangible to Sarah. Only a story. Not even a memory. Nothing she had beyond the words of others, the joy in their eyes and the smiles upon their faces.
If only Yvaine would return.
For all their sakes.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
NEWS FROM THE MAINLAND
“Will a fortnight do?” Keir’s father inquired with a chuckle, the look in his gaze meaningful beyond his words.
Keir smiled. “I’d marry her rather today than tomorrow,” he replied, warming his hands upon the fire in the hearth. “Yet I would never dream of depriving Mother of preparing a celebration fit for a queen.” The great hall stood almost empty this time of day, everyone busy tending to one task or another. Only Loki and Faerie had settled themselves in an armchair, curled up together. The sight of them made Keir smile, for he knew how hard Loki had tried to rid himself of the newcomer. Yet the little pup had proved most persistent, slowly wearing Loki down. These days, feline and pup seemed inseparable.
His father laughed, clasping his hand upon Keir’s shoulder. “I remember that eagerness,” he said wistfully, memories shining in his eyes. “’Twas the same when I married yer mother. She insisted upon a lavish feast that needed a fortnight in preparations.” He rolled his eyes, a rather impatient sigh leaving his lips. “Quite frankly, I’m convinced she only did so to torture me.” He grinned. “She knows me too well. Always has.”
Keir laughed, for it warmed his heart to see his parents so happy. Their love had always seemed effortless, and growing up, Keir had never once doubted that one day he would have the same. Only when he had become a man had he realized how precious their love was, and for the first time, he had experienced doubts, wondering if he, too, would be as fortunate.
“Ye look happy, my son,” his father remarked, a wide smile upon his face. “She’s a rare woman, is she not?”
Keir nodded. “Aye, she—”
“Keir!”
At the call of his name, Keir turned toward the entry hall from where quick footsteps approached, thundering upon the stone floors as they drew closer. He exchanged a tense glance with his father as they stepped forward, meeting Magnus, Hamish and Finn MacDrummond halfway, the expression upon their faces far from relaxed.
“What happened?” Keir demanded, his gaze moving from his brother to Finn. “Did ye hear from Cormag?”
Finn nodded; a piece of parchment clasped in his hand. “He writes that a traveling clansman returned the other day from Glasgow,” he rushed to explain, his breath coming fast. “He heard a rumor of Englishmen traveling the country, asking after two English ladies.”
Keir felt every muscle in his body tense, his apprehension increasing when he saw the look upon his father’s face. “What else? Does he write anything else? What direction were they headed?”
Finn shook his head, regret in his eyes. “I’m afraid since the clansman had no notion of the importance of that information at the time, he didna pay attention to it.”
Keir nodded, exchanging another glance with his father. “Thank ye,” he murmured, his thoughts already turning to what to do next. “At least we know they’re here. In Scotland.”
Magnus’s usually so calm demeanor had been replaced by one of nervous apprehension. “Do ye truly think they will come for them? Here?” He looked to their father. “They will never make it onto the island, will they?”
Their father heaved a deep sigh, then parted his lips to speak. Yet before he could, a terrified gasp made them all spin around.
There, in the doorway, staring at them wide-eyed and pale-faced, was Katherine, Frederica clutched in her arms.
Keir cursed under his breath, nodding to his father, before striding toward her. The moment she saw him coming, though, she shrank back as though finding herself face to face with an enemy. Her feet retreated, and a moment later, she dashed away, fleeing blindly toward the stairs.
As Keir hurried after her, he heard his father call out to him. “I’ll post watchmen at every tower and send out scouts! No one will get onto our island!”
Taking the stairs two at a time, Keir caught up with Katherine as she rushed down the corridor toward her chamber. He fell into step beside her, glancing down at Frederica, the little girl’s face alert, her eyes wide and staring up at her mother. “Let me hold her,” Keir insisted, reaching for the babe and taking her from her mother’s limp arms. He settled her within the crook of his own, rocking her gently as he hurried after Katherine.
Her feet moved as though someone were lapping at her heels, her eyes unseeing and panic clouding her expression. She pushed open the door to her chamber and then rushed toward the armoire in the corner, yanking clothes out and throwing them onto the bed. “I need to leave,” she murmured, her voice barely audible and yet frantic. “I need to leave. We need to leave. He will come, and he will find us. I never should’ve left. Never. Now, he will make me pay.”
