“You worried over that in your dreams,” he went on softly, seeming to feel I needed to know anyway. “You feared he would not return your love. Feared he would hate you for where you came from. For who your people were. What they had done to his countrymen…to his mother, my late wife.”
I spoke of love? What did I know of love with a man like Declan?With any man, for that matter. Yet it seemed my inner seer knew something. A great deal, it appeared.
“What do you mean, his mother?” Not understanding, I frowned. “Did she not die of illness years ago?”
“Nay.” Lachlann's gaze grew haunted for a moment, as if he peered into the past, sharing something that explained so much. “She died at the hands of a Norseman who came upon her down at the shore. He was alone, rogue, and not in his right mind by the sounds of it.” He inhaled deeply and released a shaky breath. “Declan was a young lad, still only learning to fight, when he came upon them, but by then, there was little hope of saving her. The damage was done, and the Norseman had fled. By the time Declan carried his mother back to the castle, ‘twas too late.”
“I’m so sorry.” My heart ached for them both. “That must have been so very hard.”
“’Twas,” Lachlann said. “Harder still when his love for the Norse in our village, people he had grown up around, turned to hate. A festering anger that only grew over time as he fought for the king against Sassenach and Norse alike.”
“Yet you never shared that anger,” I assumed. “When you would have had every right.”
“Why, when those people, friends all, did me no harm?” He looked at me with a furrowed brow, as sad now as I suspected he had been that fateful day. “That Norseman was a perfect stranger, not those I had known my whole life, nor were they affiliated with him. He was apprehended later. Justice was served. ‘Twas all that mattered.” He nodded once. “Justice.” Seeming to truly mean it, he nodded firmly one more time. “I made my peace with it.”
“Yet Declan never did,” I said, biting back emotion, seeing it clearly enough. He had been young at the time and still lacked the wisdom to put his grief and anger where they should have been. Add to that growing up in a country constantly fighting for its independence and freedom, and I could understand his hatred, to an extent.
“I’m surprised I didn’t hear about this sooner in the village,” I murmured. “It would have helped me understand him better.”
“I asked my people and those of the village years ago that it not be shared lest it bring trouble to those you try so hard to protect now,” he divulged. “It seems they did, and I couldnae be happier to hear it.”
“It says much about their respect for you,” I said.
“Mayhap,” he conceded. “But I would say it has more to do with their respect for my late wife and what she would have wanted. I said as much, too.” He shook his head. “Never was there a kinder soul who loved all people under her care, including the Norse. Mayhap they, the most, as they struggled with the growing unrest in Scotland.” He sighed. “And my Mabel raised Declan to respect them just as much, so he took it far too personally and couldnae separate the lines betwixt friend and foe after her death.”
“’Tis sad,” I murmured, squeezing his hand in support this time, grateful to understand what had made Declan the way he was. “Again, I’m so sorry, Lachlann. For you both. Truly.”
“Many thanks, lass,” he said. “’Twas important you knew…understood…because he battles his inner demons every time he looks at you. I dinnae need to ask him to know that much. He feels guilt for desiring you. Guilt because of her. Because of me. And now more guilt still for allowing you to heal Soren under our verra roof. Yet know this, Astrid” —he squeezed my hand in return again and paused before going on—“He might claim ‘twas partially for me and because you saved his life, but ‘twas neither. Not really. ‘Twas because he cares for you and doesnae know how to make sense of it. How to feel it when his hatred for your kind has burned so brightly in him for so long.”
My chest tightened at the implication that Declan cared that much about me, yet it made sense of my Wyrd. Even so, how could I ever bridge that gap? How could I ever convince him to embrace forgiveness? Find peace within his soul? Could such be done?
“’Twill be all right, my friend,” Lachlann said softly, wisdom in his gaze when he looked at me. “Somehow, some way, the battles betwixt you will end, and you will find peace together.”
Before I could respond that I wasn’t so sure, he thanked me again for caring for him overnight and told me he was ready to bathe and dress for the day, so I had best be off to fetch a servant. Understanding based on the sadness churning in his eyes after speaking of his late wife, that he needed a few moments alone to gather his emotions, I asked my husky, Oksana, to watch over him, then did as he’d asked and headed downstairs the back way.
If anything happened to him, Oksana would seek me out. She was faithful and more intelligent than most humans, nevermind dogs, so I felt comfortable leaving him in someone else's care, however temporarily.
While I knew I should go directly to the chamber they had so recently given me here in the castle, I longed to return to my cottage, clear my head, and see my dear friend, Florie. So, I fetched a servant for Lachlann and made my way out of the back of the castle, cutting through the trees as the first purplish hues of pre-dawn lit the cool, blustery forest. Fully aware how dangerous things had become for me in these parts, I kept an eye on my surroundings, my footfall light, and a dagger sheathed at my side.
It had been years since I battled, but I would again, if need be, and well at that. Once upon a time, my father, Bjorn, would have wanted it with my prized shield in hand, but those days were behind me, at least for now. Fortunately, I didn’t cross paths with anyone along the way and slipped through the door of my little cottage unseen shortly thereafter.
I couldn’t help but smile when I found Florie sleeping in my bed and everything warm and toasty, thanks to a fire which was down to embers now. Florie came from a poor farming family and had to share sleeping quarters with many, so I’d urged her to stay here while I was gone, glad to see she had.
“You are back,” she murmured sleepily.
Though I tended to the fire quietly, I wasn’t surprised when she stirred awake. With good reason, she slept as lightly as I. Whether from Norway or Scotland, times were dangerous. It could mean the difference between life and death if one did not remain watchful, especially for women.
“Aye, my friend, but I fear not for long,” I said softly, urging her to get more rest, but she shook her head and crawled out of bed.
“Nay.” She tied back her thick, dark brown hair and wrapped a plaid blanket around her slender shoulders. “I wouldrather spend this time with you if ‘tis to be brief.” She looked at me with concern while pouring two cups of mead. “Given the recent battle, your absence has worried me.” One finely arched eyebrow swept up as she joined me in front of the fire and handed me a cup. “Then I didnae know what to think when I heard you werenae only remaining in the castle but marrying the laird himself.”
Trusting Florie above all others, I filled her in on everything that had happened over the past few weeks, from seeing after my new brother by marriage, Soren, to saying goodbye to my sister for what I feared was the last time. I even told her about Lachlann falling ill and his request that I marry Declan when he passed.
“’Tis just as your fate said ‘twould be,” she marveled, rubbing the side of her neck absently and sighing sadly. “I just wish ‘twas not at the expense of Laird Mackay’s life. He’s a fine man.”
“He is,” I agreed, knowing she reflected on how courageous he had been years ago. Her family's cottage had caught on fire, and he'd helped save them all. Although it had left the side of her neck scarred, it did nothing to diminish her quiet beauty. With lightly freckled ivory skin, large cobalt blue eyes, and fetching features, she was sought after by many but had yet to marry.
“And how is Declan taking all of this?” she worried. “I know how much he loves his da. How close they are.”
