A part of him had been homesick those past days, of course. It was a big part of him, one that rejoiced the moment his eyes fell on that magnificent castle with its dark stones and towering turrets, the curtain walls seeming to reach towards the sky and the banners fluttering proudly in the wind. That place had been the only home he had ever known and returning to it after everything he had been through felt nothing short of miraculous.
But another part of him dreaded stepping past the gates.
“What is that?” Freya asked as they took the path that led to the castle. “Where are we?”
James looked at Castle MacGregor, a weight settling over his shoulders.
“Home.”
It was only a matter of time before they were in front of the castle gates. When James glanced at Freya, he found her looking at them with apprehension, her usually rosy cheeks now pale and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“This is yer home?” she asked, unconvinced.
“Aye,” said James. “Dinnae fash.”
She had seen his ring, true, but she probably thought he was employed there, or a minor noble, son to a council man. How could she have ever predicted that he was the son of a laird? His heir?
When the guards at the gates spotted him, they immediately stood at attention and opened the gates for them, one of them rushing inside—no doubt to notify his family of his return.
Dismounting his horse, James helped Freya do the same and took her hand to lead her inside. He didn’t miss the way she looked around, wide-eyed and with her lips parted in shock as they entered the courtyard, where soldiers and servants alike milled about. James searched for any sign of his family, but none of them had come out of the castle yet. Still, his stomach was tied in a knot and he tried to prepare himself for what was to come.
“What is this?” Freya asked. “Who are ye?”
James said nothing. He only led her across the courtyard and inside the keep—the one place in the entire castle that onlypeople of high rank had any reason to enter. Freya followed him in silence. James could only assume that after all the questions he had dodged, she had given up trying to get anything out of him.
“James!”
His mother’s voice echoed in the entrance hall as she rushed down the stairs, her black hair flying behind her. Behind her, his father, his brother, and his sister were all following her down the stairs in the same frantic speed, and upon seeing them all, James’ chest tightened as if he hadn’t seen them in years instead of the month it had been since he had first left the castle.
Before he knew it, his mother pulled him into an embrace so tight that he could have sworn his ribs creaked with the force of her arms. It was surprising for such a slender woman, but he supposed her relief was so big that it lent her strength.
“Ye’re back… ye’re truly back,” his mother said, pulling back just enough to look at him, her gaze turning disapproving within a single moment. “What happened to ye? Ye’re so gaunt… and all these wounds! Is it true there was a shipwreck? We got news, but it was all very uncertain… and when we did not hear back from ye…”
As she spoke, her hands roamed all over his torso and arms as she searched for signs of injury. She had always fussed over him like this, but with Freya there, James only rolled his eyes and took his mother’s hands in his, steadying her.
“I’m alright,” he assured her. “Dinnae fash. I’m safe.”
“Ye’ve been gone fer so long,” said his sister, Morgana, as she stepped close to him. She, too, fell into his arms, and James pulled her close, sighing in relief. “A whole month ye’ve been away, with nay news!”
“Aye, I ken,” said James. The moment Morgana pulled back from him, his brother, Edward, and his father both came to him. Edward grabbed his shoulders and laughed as if in disbelief, but his father could only stare at him with a haunted look in his eyes.
There didn’t need to be any words exchanged between them. James could understand his father perfectly without them saying a thing to each other—he had since he was a child. He knew that for almost an entire month, his father had existed in a constant state of fear that he had not only lost his son, but also his heir, the future of their family and their clan.
In the commotion and joy that James was back, none of his family members seemed to have noticed Freya, but now his mother’s gaze fell on her and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Out of them all, it was her who James feared telling his story to the most. His mother was as traditional as she was proud, and James doubted she would approve of this marriage.
“Is this a… servant?” his mother asked, much to his chagrin. James wished Freya hadn’t heard that, but when he glanced at her, he didn’t think she had taken any offense at the comment.
“Nay, Maither. I have much tae tell and would like tae start by introducing ye all tae–” began James, but before he could say anything to his family about Freya, two people descended the stairs—a man and a woman with the same blonde hair and patrician profiles, vaguely resembling each other despite the difference in their ages.
“Ach, come, please!” said his mother, interrupting him and beckoning the two of them closer. “James, may I introduce tae ye yer betrothed. This is Evelyn Campbell and her uncle, Alastair. He was terribly kind to accompany her all the way here and then remained tae keep her company while we awaited news about ye. It was our pleasure to have them both here, of course, and Evelyn had the chance to acquaint herself with the place and the servants… we never lost hope, as ye see.”
James had stopped listening. His ears buzzed with all the blood that rushed to his head and the world around him seemed to tilt on its axis.
Though he had known his parents would be looking for a suitable wife—and would have even found her, perhaps, in the time he had been away—he had never thought they would have brought her there without informing him first. And to claim she was already his betrothed when he had never even let them know he had managed to get Saint Cuthbert’s blessing went against every tradition of the clan.
“What dae ye mean?” he asked, stunned. “Ye ken I must have Saint Cuthbert’s blessing before I can ever be betrothed taeanyone. I went on that pilgrimage specifically so I could have the blessing andthenfind a wife.”
“Well, we thought we might as well waste nay time,” his mother said with an unaffected air about her. “Ye had left the arrangements up tae us, and as it was only a matter of weeks, we invited the Campbells tae visit. And then, when we heard news of the shipwreck, we had other things tae worry about!”
