“So am I.”
“Then, as a near-Highlander…” She summoned courage, nerves flickering through her. “Have you ever heard of the far-famed Highland cailleach, Devorgilla of Doon? A half-mythical crone who runs about wearing-”
“Black boots with red plaid shoelaces?” he finished for her, chuckling. “To be sure, I’ve heard of the great lady, as she is known. She visits Eilean Creag Castle now and then, often accompanied by her little red fox, Somerled.”
Caterine blinked. “You’ve met her?”
“I have, yes.”
“Linnet never mentioned her coming to Eilean Creag,” she puzzled. “I would think she’d have sent word. A visit from Devorgilla would be quite an honor for any household, even one as great as Clan MacKenzie.”
“Not so long as Duncan MacKenzie is laird,” her new husband said, serious now. “He is not fond of the crone, swears her witchy ways are too uncanny.
“Truth is…” He sat back, the twinkle returning to his eye. “I suspect he fears she’ll turn him into a toad. He makes himself scarce whenever she sets foot on Kintail land.”
“Linnet was with me the few times I met her,” Caterine told him, remembering. “Once, we’d traveled to the wild lands of Nought in the Glen of Many Legends. Our sister, Kirsty, married a Nought Mackintosh,” she went on, sharing a bit about their visit, but not mentioning the land-blessing Devorgilla suggested to Kirsty.
When she was sure she’d babbled way too much, and seemed unable to stop, her champion leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee. “You didn’t mention Devorgilla just now because of a long-ago family wedding,” he said, proving again that, somehow, he could peer into her mind. “Why did you ask if I knew her?”
“Because…” Caterine’s chest tightened, the nerves that had been only flickers, now rushing through her like a strong, cold tide in the iciest northern sea.
“Because,” she started again, “Devorgilla believes freshly married couples should honor the old gods and the land. She recommends a blessing ceremony that gifts the pair’s union with all the strength and benevolence of the ages, protecting them always.”
“I see.” He nodded.
He didn’t throw back his head and laugh.
He did reach for her hand, lacing their fingers. “You wish to perform this blessing ceremony?”
“I do,” Caterine blurted, her heart pounding. “I believe it would be most beneficial for us.”
“Then we shall do it,” he agreed, making it sound as if she’d offered him a mere cup of ale, and not an ancient pagan ceremony that, despite his good humor, would cause many to scoff.
“What is required?” he asked, his brow creasing only slightly. “Dunlaidir’s great stone cliffs are fierce in any weather, but now, all gray and fog-drenched, any land-blessing might best wait till a time when the high moors, at least, are less frozen?
“I have heard tales of such rites, and…” His voice held the slightest hint of regret. “The first time we join, sweeting, I’d not have you sprawled across hard, icy ground.”
“The old gods won’t mind if we avoid freezing ourselves to frost-coated stones.” Caterine stood, dared to let her bed-robe fall open, aware that the thinness of her chemise hid little. “From what I understood of Devorgilla’s suggestion, the couple’s intent, their willingness, is all that’s needed.”
“Needed to what, my lady?” Her husband also stood, the lightness of his linen braies as revealing as her chemise. “What exactly must we do?”
Caterine swallowed, reached deep inside her for a boldness she wasn’t sure she possessed.
“Well?” He looked at her. “Go on.”
“Ah, er…” She dug her fingers into the folds of her bed-robe, drew a breath. “We must stand unclothed and open ourselves to the elements, my lord. Our hearts wide and accepting of the land all around us, from the depths of the sea, to the richest and blackest peat bog, the last stone on the farthest moor, to the cold and racing wind, and beyond to the most distant star in the heavens.
“All that we must draw in to swirl around us, letting it wrap round and round, embracing us and steeping our souls as the years fall away and then rush in to return, blessing us as we stand to honor and give love to our ancestors and all those who once walked here, and called this place their own.”
“I understand,” he said, sounding serious.
And the old gods help her, she believed he truly was.
“Then shall we begin?” she asked before her courage fled.
When he nodded, she slipped out of her bed-robe, letting it fall to the floor.
He stepped closer then, slid his arms around her. “Must we speak?”
