Ceann narrowed his eyes. “Aye, well, I owe you thanks for that, at least. Come inside. We’ll talk.”
They walked to the keep, Ceann’s arm wrapped possessively around Ella’s waist, Malcolm with a bemused smile on his face. Once in the study, Ella and Malcolm found seats before the window. Ceann stood before them, his arms crossed over his chest, his legs braced slightly apart. His warrior’s stance. Ella glanced at him, raising an eyebrow at his fierce look, then turned to Malcolm. “How is Esme?”
“She is well, she wanted to come with me, of course, but she can’t get away just now. She has promised to come see you before too long. I know she misses you terribly, love.”
Ella felt a tear well up and blinked it away. “I miss her too… I miss all of you. Thank you for coming Malcolm.”
He smiled. “Nothing could keep me away. And I brought you something, well someone.”
Her face lit up. “You brought me my horse?”
“Aye, I had them put him in the stables. The poor beast missed you something awful. Drove us all crazy with it. You are happy, Ella?”
“I am.”
“Good. Everything has worked out even better than we planned.”
Ella sighed. “I thought as much.”
Malcolm raised his eyebrows in question. “You thought what?”
“That you had all plotted something without me knowing. A quest! Really Malcolm. Are you finally going to tell me what this has all been about?”
“As much as I can, because there’s always more than we know or can even hope to discover…”
Ella rolled her eyes and sighed. “Just tell me. In plain words.”
“Say what you have come here to say,” Ceann grumbled.” He did not enjoy sharing his wife with this stranger who had appeared out of nowhere, and for whom she obviously held great affection.
Malcolm looked at him, and then back to Ella. “You, love, have been hidden all your life from those who would harm you, as was your mother before you.” He paused, as if unsure what to say next. “You are of the ancient Brude line, a princess, as was your mother, and hers before, back a thousand years or more.”
“What in God’s name are you talking about? I can’t be a princess, that’s just mad.”
“Aye, you are, Ella. Look at me, would I lie to you?”
“No.”He wouldn’t.
“My clan is as ancient as the Brude kings, and we have been charged with protecting them for just as long. It has been our purpose to preserve the auld ways and to safeguard the knowledge that must not be lost. And one day, it will be a Brude prince that prevents the fall of Scotland to the English. If we are careful to make things just so. It is an intricate dance we perform.”
Ceann could have sworn his heart stopped beating in his chest. A princess. He had married a bloody princess. ABrudeprincess, no less, of the ancient kings of Scotland. Surely they would try to take her back. They would not honor the marriage of royalty to a mere Scottish laird. And perhaps, now that she knew the truth, she would not want him either. His hands fisted at his sides.Had it all been a dream, after all?
Unable to control the emotions raging through him, Ceann turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Ella gasped in surprise and rose to go after him, but Malcolm took her arm, pushing her gently back down into the chair. “Wait, there’s more to say. Then you can go after your temperamental husband.” He gave her a wry smile. “Ceann is your destiny, aye. Your soul mate, love. His father, Artair, was also of a line of guardians of the Brude, and he needed a son to carry on his legacy. The pact he made with us that day sealed both your fates, promising you to each other, and each other alone. Esme had already foreseen his birth, and yours, and that you were soul mates.You have been together before, somewhere, sometime… you are meant to always find each other. You were to be given in marriage to Ceann in your twentieth year, but Artair died before he had told his son of the legacy. We had to bring you together in a different way, else risk it going terribly wrong. Do you understand?”
“You are saying that I was born for Ceann, and he for me?”
“Aye.”
“That, I can believe.”
She found him in the lists, in a heated match with Gregor. Although older than Ceann by a number of years, he was still holding his own, for the most part. She did not approach, but instead ducked behind some bushes to watch. She was fascinated with her husband’s strength and power. He could surely kill a man with one hand, yet when he held her, he was gentle, and all of that power carefully leashed. His skin glistened with sweat, and his muscles rippled and flexed with each blow.He is beautiful. He is mine. When finally Gregor conceded defeat, the way their battles always ended, she went to them. She gave a slight nod to Gregor, and taking her meaning, he went off, grumbling about finding a mug of ale or some such thing to soothe his wounded pride. Ceann sheathed his sword, and she smiled up at him, taking his hand in hers. “Walk with me.”
She led him down the little path where she had met the old woman, to the little bench in the copse. There they sat down together, but he did not touch her. “So you are a princess.”
Ella looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “Aye, so Malcolm says. I have no reason to doubt him. It explains a lot… I mean… about how I grew up, my childhood… little things that never made sense before.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, it must be as much a shock for you as it is for me… I…”
“You will leave me…”
Her eyes flew to his, and she saw the doubt there, the pain… “Never! I will never leave you, how could you think such a thing?”
