Page 33 of Highlander’s Ancient Vengeance

They looked up when he entered, and Malle held the paper out to him, her face a picture of sorrow. He frowned as he took it from her. “Is this what I think it is?” he demanded.

“I believe so,” Malle replied quietly.

“What is wrong, my love?” Craig asked, alarmed.

“Read the letter,” Malle instructed.

Craig began to read, and felt the sadness coming off the paper as if it was a physical thing, like a mist that had been trapped inside the folio, passed down through the years and only let loose when it was opened. He fancied he could smell it.

Donnan had written to Jamie in Thurso, telling him about Isobell’s death and the funeral, and asking his permission to join him in the Monastery of St Kentigern.

Dear Jamie,

When I saw my darling girl in the coffin, it was as though God’s light was shining through her. All the cares of the world had left her and her beautiful face was serene and untroubled. She looked peaceful as I had never before seen her in life, and there was a trace of a smile around her lips. I could almost imagine that she was still alive, were it not for the pallor of her skin, which was as white as milk. I only cried when I saw the coffin lid closing, thinking of my darling Isobell lying in the cold ground unable to get out of that box. I almost wished I was with her.

My dear brother, I feel as if my heart has been ripped out. I cannot go on without her. Is there a place for me in the monastery? I do not want to stay here where she died. There are too many memories of her.

Your loving brother,

Donnan

The reply was written on the bottom of the same sheet of paper:

Dear Donnan,

I have explained your situation to the Abbot Peter and he will be happy to welcome you as a lay brother. I am distraught to hear about Isobell’s death. She was a wonderful soul, and I cannot imagine your grief. However, you are both in my thoughts and prayers, and you can console yourself with knowing that she is now with God. Come as soon as you wish.

Your loving brother,

Jamie

Margaret read the letter again, then nodded. “We read in Isobell’s grandmother’s diary that the family all mistrusted Donnan, but it was so obvious that he loved her. Everyone said so at the time, and it has come down to us over hundreds of years. Now we know that Mungo did it—we will not count the poor servant girl, since she was another one of Mungo’s victims—this makes it even sadder. He loved Isobell so much that he could not live without her. The poor man.”

“That is so sad.” Malle sighed. “He died of a broken heart, and yet I read in one of the diaries that he did not look sad at all, which is why so many of the family suspected him of killing her.”

“Some people are just made that way, Malle. They cannot show their feelings. Who knows if he wept when no one could see him? We should not judge.”

“I never did.” Then she thought of something. “There are no Bruces anymore, are there Craig?”

“There is Alan Bruce the Younger,” he replied, “but he is only twelve years old and nothing like his father. In fact, since Alan used to beat him, he is quite glad that he is dead, and I am taking him under my wing. His wife is glad too. He beat three babies out of her. We want no more like Alan the Elder here. Even before he died, I began to hear all kinds of tales about him, and I did not believe them. I saw what I wanted to see, I suppose, but when he attacked us I realized all the stories were true. A fine judge of character is Craig Dunbar!” His voice was bitter.

“He was your family’s friend for years, my love,” she pointed out. “Of course you thought the best of him. That is natural, and it makes you a better man, not a worse one.” She looked up into the deep dark gray eyes and felt herself melt inside.

“You make me a better man,” Craig said huskily. “And I cannot wait for you to be my wife.” Then he cupped her face in his and kissed her with all the passion he possessed, glad that he would not have to wait much longer.

When it was over, Malle was breathless and her eyes were bright. “You know, I think I love you now as much as I hated you when we first met!”

He laughed and hugged her as tightly as he dared with her bruised ribs. “Do you have to go home tonight?” he asked sadly. “Please stay another day.”

“I have to get back,” she whispered.

“Why?” He sounded quite sad.

“Because Mammy and I have a wedding dress to make!” she reminded him.

Just then the door opened and the two lairds lurched through it, looking distinctly the worse for wear. They were both smiling broadly and had their arms around each other. Kenneth held up a brace of rabbits, and Malcolm had another two.

“Is there anything left of the whisky?” Craig asked suspiciously.