Now, my halls echo with warmth, not warfare. The tumult Ceit brought has vanished.
Callum has a mother, and two fathers forged in fire and blade.
My wee one will carry my name.
My blood.
With eyes of sky and hair like dusk, he is the future I fought for.
My pride swells with each breath he takes.
The heart once torn by battle now beats steadily. The lands I guard rest beneath my feet.
Peace, at last, reigns.
There is no greater joy—for me, for Ciarán, for Catherine.
Lord Granndach has returned.
Here, within Ravensmire, the hearth is kindled, the memories stitched into the tapestries above the fire.
This nest is mine.
And long shall I dwell within it.
Duncan.
In the year of our Lord,
1594
Prologue
The Jet
Sunday
Late Afternoon
Escape Time
Oh, never let it be said that Michael didn’t work for the best people in the entire universe. That was a sure fact in his world, and something that he was grateful for every day of his life.
Without them, he would be lost, and not have family to call his own.
They were his world.
Their protective nature did his heart good as they always rallied around him in order to make sure that he was safe—physically and emotionally.
They were the best people he knew.
Oh, and he greatly appreciated always having someone to watch his back when there was chaos on the horizon. The Blackhawks were people of their word.
All.
The.
Time.
