Alanna sighed, her heart hurting. “Poor Boyd. He must be crushed.”
“He surely is.” Callum glanced again at the scroll. “The King has offered him a post in his guard, a chance to leave the North and start a new life.”
“I hope he takes it,” Alanna agreed, sad that Yule could begin with such gladness and end in sorrow.
“Does Dunwhinnie say what will happen to my aunt?” A terrible thought came to her. “The King will not hang her, will he?”
“Nae, but she will no’ be happy where she’s going.” Callum couldn’t resist a smile. “Dunwhinnie offered a solution and the King and his Stewarts thought it fitting.”
“What?” Alanna didn’t miss the gleam in his eye. “How can you look amused?”
“Aye, well, ’tis just.” Callum took a mead jug from the table, poured them two horns, handing her one. “Dunwhinnie needs someone to look after his hundred cats or so. He and the King think your aunt deserves the position.”
“Oh, my!” Alanna gasped, then she, too, smiled. “You are right, she will not be pleased.”
“There’s more.” Callum took her arm, led her out of the longhouse and toward the beach where revelers were just starting to light the Yule bonfires.
“What?” Alanna hurried to keep pace with him, Gubbie taking off for the cottage.
“Just this…” Callum stopped a good bit behind the merrymakers, patted the royal scroll now tucked beneath his plaid. “The King sent a personal note to me, warning me to stop looking for my ancestors’ hidden treasure in the sea caves beneath Draugar Hall.
“He said…” He paused, pulling her close to kiss her. “He said the tides are too dangerous for such folly. That you need me and he wishes me to devote my time to creating new treasure with you.”
Alanna blinked. “What are you saying? What is he saying?”
“He means children, sweeting.” He glanced up at the snow-clouded sky, then back to her. “He wants us to wed and raise a family, the greatest Yule gift we can have.
“And…” He smiled again. “He said seeing you happy would fulfill an old Yuletide promise one of his ancestors made to yours. Seems a g-g-g-great grandfather of yours rescued the favorite mistress of his g-g-g-great grandfather when her ship foundered off Seacliffe’s coast in a winter storm. At the time, the then king promised to aye look after Grant ladies, ne’er letting harm come to them.”
“So that’s the reason.” Alanna gave him a wobbly smile, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I never knew.”
“Now you do.” He grabbed her hand, kissed her cold fingertips. “I will take good care of you, lass.”
“But do you love me?Canyou love me?”
Callum laughed. “You have doubts? After all we have seen and been through?”
“We did just meet,” she reminded him.
“True enough.” He leaned in, this time kissing her cold, red nose. “We met now, reuniting after a thousand years or so.”
This time Alanna laughed.
“Good, then.” She took his hand, lacing their fingers. “We shall fill Seacliffe with many wee MacCullochs. How is that?”
“I could ask for no greater Yule gift, my love.” He started toward the bonfires.
“Aye, you could.” Alanna dug her heels into the sand, halting him. “I have my own Yuletide gift for you.”
“Nae, lass.” He shook his head, pressed two fingers to her lips. “I have more than enough.”
“I told you once, Grant women can be fierce.” She nipped round him, blocking his way to the fires. “Do you remember when we rode past Draugar’s ruin? Did you see that I turned my head?”
“Aye, I saw.”
“But you didn’t know why, did you?”
“I thought you couldn’t bear seeing such a shamble on Seacliffe land.”
