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“And I say with as much truth that the likes of you and your kind will be no more,” the soldier challenged, his comrades encouraging him with cheers.
“You can say or claim all you wish, but the truth is written and cannot be erased,” she said confidently.
“She’s a seer,” the older soldier said with a shiver. “Stay clear of her, or she will steal your soul.”
The young soldier scurried away, tripping over his feet as he went, his pretentious bravado failing him.
“What do we do with her?” the other soldier asked taking several cautious steps away.
“She might prove helpful to King Kenneth,” the young one suggested.
“Fool,” the older one spat. “The king has his own seer, and he keeps his distance from the Picts; being pagans, they cannot be trusted.”
Bliss felt a sudden catch in her stomach though she moved not a muscle. It intensified as the unknown man continued his approach. From how palpable his strength, he was no doubt a warrior. They were an easy lot to sense, their potency far-reaching. Though there was a force about this particular one that caused her to shudder. Passion tickled at her flesh, and a heady scent soon followed, wrapping around her like a lover’s strong embrace.
This was the man she was meant to meet, and why fate had her wait. A tingle of anticipation ran through her, and without warning, as was the way of it, a sense of knowing struck her like a mighty blow. Only this time it was about her.
She could foolishly doubt it, but it would do no good. The sense of what was about to transpire was much too strong, too rooted in her knowing. Still, it was difficult to believe, and yet she knew without a doubt that fate had her wait here—she took a deep breath, not sure if she was ready—to meet her future husband.
“What do we do with her then?” the young one asked anxiously.
Her answer spilled from her lips, shocking her. “My husband has come to get me.”
He walked out of the mist then, as if summoned, emerging slowly, the fog dissipating around him with each confident step he took. He was a formidable figure: tall, his shoulders broad, his body lean, his eyes intense, his long auburn hair blown wild by the irate wind, and his long, slim fingers resting heavily on the hilt of his sword. A Highland plaid, the colors a near match to his dark hair draped proudly around him and a black wool, fur-lined cloak hugged his wide shoulders.
The three soldiers shuddered, and a shiver ran through her.
Trey MacAlpin.
Bliss knew this man, had helped heal him and kept the secret that he and his three brothers shared—one of them was the true king of Scotland and would soon take the throne.
“Husband of mine, finally you arrive,” she said, walking over to him though her legs trembled. She stretched her hand out, knowing he would not refuse her.
His hand reached out, taking hold of hers tightly and drawing her intimately up against him as only a husband would. The vision came swiftly and left with the same haste. There was no time to consider it. She had to pay heed to the present, and so she tucked it away to examine later.
The young soldier wanted more confirmation, and asked, “This Pict is your woman, your wife?”
Trey didn’t hesitate. “Bliss is my wife.”
Bliss spoke the words that would seal their fate. “Trey is my husband.”
“You are on MacAlpin land,” Trey warned.
“King Kenneth owns all land,” the young soldier challenged. “And all on the land serve him.”
“I serve the true king,” Trey boldly announced.
The young soldier stepped forward, his bravado regained and his hand going to the hilt of his sword. “There is only one true king, and perhaps it is time you served him.”
“Take another step, lad, and it will be your Maker you’ll meet and be serving,” Trey warned with a cold, hard stare that froze the fellow in his steps. “Go back to your king and tell him that the time draws near, and soon he will be king no more.”
Anger had the young soldier taking a hasty step forward as he shouted, “There is only one of you and three of us.”
“Unfair odds for sure, but I have no time to wait for you to fetch more soldiers,” Trey said without a trace of a smile.
Bliss marveled at his confidence and courage. But, then, his bravery wasn’t foreign to her; she had felt the heart of it pulsing through her when she had helped heal him. She knew then the strength of this man and what he was capable of; but there had also been a moment when a shiver of fear had run through her. He was also a man heavily burdened, and it had troubled her heart to feel his sadness.
Now it troubled her that she had not sensed the connection between them sooner, but then Bliss had learned at an early age that fate often worked in mysterious ways, and it wasn’t for her to question.
