“Here’s to us,” she said, pouring out the wine, passing a goblet to him. “And to catching sharks.”
Brice stuck his hands apart. “It was this big, ma.”
“Really? How come it didn’t bite the boat in two?”
“We got it with da’s sword.”
“Did you indeed? Well, what a warrior you are. Come and eat something, you must be starving.”
Brice picked up an apple and bit into it. Beside him Sasha was scooping oats from the bowl with her hand, cramming them into her mouth.
“Slow down,” Gavin said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
Heather smiled. “I never thought I’d see the great strong warrior become the great strong worrier.”
He stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m a da. I’m allowed to worry.”
“What have we got to worry about? The clan is happy. We’re happy. It’s all good.”
“I suppose it is. Not regretting marrying me yet then?”
“Only when you snore.”
“I dinnae snore. Do I?”
“I’m only kidding.” She lifted the goblet. “Cheers.”
They sat and looked out at the loch, the children happily eating. Gavin’s arm slipped around Heather’s shoulder. “Three years today since we got married,” Gavin said. “Seems only a day ago.”
Heather heard a horse riding toward them. She turned her head in time to see a messenger coming to a halt at the end of the track. He jumped off the horse and nodded to both of them. “My laird, my lady. I bring news.”
“What is it?” Gavin asked impatiently. “I’m supposed to be having a day off.”
“The scouts have come back from the Isle of Rhum and they speak of a woman they found there.”
Heather felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She had a terrible feeling he was going to say the old crone had come back to life.
“What woman?” Gavin asked.
“She says she has something she must tell the laird of the MacGregors.”
“Where is she now?”
“At the castle. The scouts brought her back on the boat.”
“I must speak with her,” Gavin said, getting to his feet.
“We better come too,” Heather said, scooping Sasha into her arms. “What if it’s Donna?”
It wasn’t Donna. It wasn’t a woman either Gavin or Heather recognized.
When they got to the castle the woman was pacing up and down in the great hall, muttering to herself.
“Who are you?” she asked as Gavin walked in, Heather and the children behind him. “Are you the laird?”
“I am Gavin MacGregor. Who are you?”
“My name’s Jessica Craven.”
