With this in mind, I started toward my friends once more, taking in how much they were the same and how they had changed. The three of them stood facing each other, arms linked, heads thrown back in laughter. Freya had developed a lush figure, and her red hair was streaked with silver. Elena’s hair was still as red as it had always been, but it was shorter, and I could see from her profile and when she smiled that her eyes and mouth creased with beautiful crinkles of joy, no doubt caused by many years of happiness. Murieall’s red hair was piled high on her head, and there was one thick chunk of white that seemed to streak from her left temple. She, too, had developed more sensual curves, and she reminded me sharply of my own mama, standing with her hands set on her hips and her head tilted as if Freya and Elena were telling her the most important story.
I felt suddenly self-conscious, unchanged in appearance, with no markings of the years to show I’d borne children I loved, I’d had joy and sorrow, I’d survived sickness and hardship, and I’d created a life to be proud of. I had the smooth appearance of youth, it was true, but I longed for the lines that proudly displayed I’d lived, loved, and would eventually leave this world behind to be reunited with those I’d lost. Suddenly, worry rose in me about what I would say, and I hesitated a step, only to hear my name squealed out over the distance.
“Katreine!”
Murieall was the first to see me, and she came flying toward me, but Elena and Freya were right on her heels, calling out to me. Murieall wrapped me in her arms as Gillie stepped back, andthen all three of my dear friends enveloped me. Just as if a single day had not passed, we all began to talk at once.
“Ye look exactly the same, ye witch!” Murieall exclaimed, and we all burst out laughing.
“Look at yer skin!” Freya said, running her fingers down my cheek. “I remember when my skin looked like smooth water,” she crowed.
“And look at ye!” I replied. “All of ye. That ye are living lives of joy is so obvious on yer faces.”
They exchanged a swift look, the three of them. “So ye are still cursed?” Elena whispered.
I shrugged. “As far as I ken.” By the knowing look they gave each other, it seemed I’d not have to fill them in on much.
Murieall looped her arm through mine. “Munro, of course, told me everything, and I sent missives to Elena and Freya. We were hoping, well…” She let her words trail off, but I understood what she meant.
“I was hoping the curse would be broken as well, but I can nae waste time fretting over it.”
“Nay, ye can nae!” Elena exclaimed. “Ye have a verra handsome warrior waiting in there to wed ye.”
“He’s divine, Katreine,” Freya said. “I would nae kick him out of my bed, but of course, he’d nae be in my bed since I’m wed.”
“Of course, nae,” I said, giggling, feeling very much as if my world was finally trying to right itself.
“We want to hear everything that has happened to ye since we last saw ye,” Murieall said.
“And I want to hear all about yer lives,” I answered.
“But first,” Gillie said, stepping close to us, “she needs to get into the chapel and wed James.”
“This is Gillie, one of my sisters of my heart,” I said by way of introduction before waving a hand at Elena, Freya, and Murieall.“And these are my other sisters of my heart. Ye will love each other.”
“Aye,” they all sang out in harmony.
“But off ye go now to wed,” Gillie said, shoving me toward the door as Freya opened it. Murieall straightened my wreath of flowers on my head, and Elena smoothed my gown. I stepped into the candlelit chapel, and my breath caught at the sight of James standing at the front, with Munro on one side and Father Gordon in front of him. I knew others were gathered there, but as I walked down the short aisle, I focused on James.
His hair was tied at the nape of his neck but curled with droplets of water. He had trimmed his stubble on the road, and his tunic and plaid stretched across the broad expanse of his chest. His powerful legs were braced slightly apart, and though every part of him beckoned me to him, it was the love in his eyes that pulled me forward by that invisible string I’d only ever felt with him.
When I reached him, we faced each other, and he took my hands in his large ones. As he nodded to Father Gordon to begin and the priest cleared his throat, James’s eyes went wide. He released my right hand and suddenly plucked a hair from my head.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed. “What was that for?”
A foolish grin spread across his face, and he brought my plucked hair, held between his pinched index finger and thumb, between us. “Ye have a silver strand of hair,” he said, his voice low, but the words were filled with emotions strong enough to knock the air from my lungs.
Had I misheard him? I stared at the single strand, and as it came into focus, I laughed and wrapped my hand around his. “I’m getting silver hair,” I breathed, happiness overflowing from me.
“Aye, lass, ye’re getting older.”
I laughed again as the priest gave us a strange look. James’s hand cupped the back of my neck, and his lips brushed my right ear, sending a delicious wave of heat over my sensitive earlobe as he spoke. “I look forward to yer lines and the way they will ripen yer beauty and mark our years together.”
“I’d nae thought I could love ye more, James Ross, but ye’ve proved me wrong.”
He winked at me. “I’ll do my best to keep proving ye wrong about that for the rest of our lives.”
“I’ll remind ye of that when yer grumpy with me,” I replied, looking forward to all the days with him. I wanted the good, the bad, and the in-between, because that was what made a good life. Taking a journey with someone who, if everything else were stripped away, including beauty, riches, and health, would choose you again for your heart and soul and give you theirs in return.
