"How long do ye think it'll take tae reach the village from here, Aymer?" Iain asked.
The man turned to him and shook his head, shrugging.
"Weel, I've never truly been there, m'Laird," he said. "I only know tha' my sister an' her husband reside there now, and it's no' that far from these woods. If we just keep headin' in this direction, we should make it well within the day, I would imagine."
Iain nodded and stood, motioning for the men to finish eating quickly.
"We shouldnae lose any of the mornin'," he said. "I want tae be ridin' through the village gates before nightfall. If we're really as close as Aymer thinks we are, it shouldnae be difficult."
With that, he reached out a hand to Isla and helped her to her feet. Her touch sent a calming glow throughout his body, and he sighed in relief. He wondered then if she felt it too, but the smile on her face told him all he needed to know.
This time, when she wrapped her arms around him as she made herself comfortable on his horse, she laid her head down upon his back. Iain felt nearly overcome with emotion by this simple and small gesture. He swallowed, his throat tight and thick. He felt her sigh in happiness, a tiny sound escaping the back of her throat, and he felt peace rippling through him.
He was aware that the men knew better than to say anything about it to him, but he was surprised even still at the boldness of the act, though he did not know why. Isla had proven herself to be unpredictable, a trait he had come to truly love, and inside of her was a bravery he fiercely admired.
"Where did the letter say tae go once we reach the village?" he asked her over his shoulder.
"I dinnae think it said anythin' about what tae do once we arrive," Isla said. "I dinnae what tae do. It looked like it was written hastily by a weak hand. We should ask aroun' when we get there, I suppose. 'Tis the only thing that I can think tae do."
Iain sighed; that would be a problem.
"Per'aps, once we arrive, we can stop at the tavern," Jacob said. "There will be mouths there willin' tae speak. It would be a good place tae see if we can learn anythin'. The barkeep might know the handwritin' maybe."
"Come off it, Jacob," Aymer laughed. "Ye jus' want tae see if ye can grab a dram o' whisky while yer there."
Iain heard the men chuckling behind him and felt Isla's laugh vibrating through his own chest. It was an intimate feeling and reminded him of their time at the loch when they had melded their bodies together as one. Having her close here like this felt like a blessing, one that he would not squander.
They continued on for hours heading due west as the letter had stated. Iain had become accustomed to Isla's weight behind him and her slightly floral scent. The aroma of the herbs and flowers that she used to heal with clung to her, and Iain found it strangely addicting. He began to dread finding the village ever so slightly; it would only mean she would pull away from him when they dismounted the horse.
Eventually, though, the woodland opened up into a clearing, a silent glade that the sun beamed down upon through the clouds. Iain guided his horse over the hill, and beyond it, he could see that the trees began to thin out.
"Look, m'Laird," Aymer called. "Just through the trees. I believe tha' I can see the village."
Iain ducked downward to see, following the angle of Aymer's outstretched, pointing arm. He could see something in the distance; it was a group of thatched roofs settled over river stone cottages, and just before it was a crumbling, little wall.
He stared at it; he had seen this place before. Iain leaned forward, squinting to see better, and then nudged his stallion into a light trot, swerving around a hawthorn tree. He reached back to ensure that Isla would not lose her balance, and the horse broke into a light run. He slowed the stallion when they got closer; he had to be sure his suspicions were correct before speaking.
"This is the village in my dream," Iain said, turning around to glance at her. He saw her dark brows raise in surprise. "Every night, I would see ye in the moors, callin' for me, but just beyond ye was this village. I cannae believe what I'm seein'."
"Ye've seen this place in yer dream?" Isla asked. "How can this be?"
But the more he gazed at it in wonder, the more he was certain. She did not sound as though she disbelieved him, only awestruck.
As they approached, Iain felt his heart thudding hard in his chest. He could not stop the feeling of anticipation descending upon him; the sight of the village had shaken him.
They had come to the village for Isla, but somehow he felt as though this was exactly where he should be as well.
Chapter Eighteen
Isla and Iain passed the dilapidated wall, the men's horses plodding behind them. She took in the sight of the village with wide eyes. After all of this traveling, they had finally arrived. Anticipation seized her as she realized the answers she sought could be soon offered to her.
The Laird turned to look at her again, each of their emotions mirrored on the other's face. And yet, there was another mystery still to solve.
How was Iain connected to this place?
She could not imagine who or what she might find here.
The village wasn't quite as small as it had looked at first. She thought there were only a few houses tucked into the green hills, but as they traveled down the path, she saw she was wrong. There was a tavern towards the end of the little dirt path, and as Jacob had predicted, there seemed to be a moderate amount of villagers passing in and out of the door.
