To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull #1)

Chapter Twenty Six

“ Y er eyes are heavy with sadness,” Anwen said to Shoney. “Come with me, child, into my rooms. No one will disturb us there.”

Shoney followed Anwen from the great hall within the keep, then up the stone staircase to her rooms. Upon entering the bedchamber, Shoney strolled aimlessly around for a moment. She stood before the bed, remembering the first night she’d come to the village when Anwen had almost succumbed to illness. Her hand touched the turn posts. They were carved in the shape of large thistles, which made her long for Ronan.

“Sit by the fire, lass, and tell me what troubles ye,” Anwen implored.

Shoney expelled a weary sigh as she sat down. “I believe that Morna and Una are suspicious about my condition. It will not be long before everyone will know that I am with child.”

“’Tis true. Even if ye don’t tell, yer stomach will,” Anwen chuckled. “Ye’ll grow fat, and ye’ ll think there is simply no way ye could grow any larger, then somehow fatter still ye will be.”

“I know this, Anwen, but what will everyone think when the truth is discovered?” Shoney asked.

“I do not know why ye wish to keep yer condition a secret. I told ye already. The clan will rejoice.” Anwen stroked Shoney’s cheek and smiled. “Bridget, understand that ye carry the future laird of the MacKinnon.”

“If I may remind ye of a few things, Anwen,” Shoney snapped. “My name is Shoney. This child may be a girl, and whether she will be a MacKinnon remains to be seen.” Shoney was in no mood to be handled, which she knew was what Anwen was trying to do—keep her happy and in Gribun until Ronan’s return.

“I’m sorry, Shoney, but ye will soon know what it is to have a mother’s heart, and then ye will understand why I shall always carry hope for ye and Ronan. Although, I don’t mind telling ye, I’m certain ye two will be together in the end. Love has a life of its own—a power,” she whispered. “It is gentle and ferocious all at the same time. I know what it is to love and to be loved. Little in life, would I argue, is certain. But one thing I am sure of is that Love, once it claims ye, is impossible to deny.”

“Ye have a love match with Nathair then?” Shoney asked, curious to know more about Ronan’s parents.

“Aye, to be sure.”

A sudden glow radiated from Anwen at the mention of Nathair’s name, erasing the lines from her face and transforming her into a besotted maid .

“I tried to resist Nathair. Unlike most of the other girls, I had no desire to bind myself to the future laird. I knew that I would have to share him with everyone else, that his duty to the clan would always come first.”

“However did he win ye?” Shoney asked.

“Persistence,” she laughed. “He told me that I was the sun in his sky, and in time he became the sun in mine. But still I refused him when he asked me to be wed.”

Anwen stood up and stared out the casement. When she spoke, her voice was distant and dreamy. “Aye, I was stubborn and set against Nathair despite how much I wanted him...needed him. Then one day, the MacLeans attacked,” she looked at Shoney. “It was dreadful.”

“They were a greater threat in those days,” she continued. “Their laird was a ruthless man. I remember father preparing for battle and my mother begging him to stay. I realized then that every man was duty bound to protect the clan. After a short while, my mother started helping da make ready, and I will never forget what she said. She turned to me and said that a clan was a gift worth fighting for, and that everyone must put the good of the clan first. After her words sank into this thick skull, I ran out of our hut as fast as I could in search of Nathair. And when I found him, I pledged to love him, then and there, until I drew my last breath. And then he kissed me.” Anwen blushed and again her voice became wistful. “I will never forget that kiss.”

“Ye speak of romance and love like it is so easy when it is anything but. My love story is filled with betrayal and deceit. How can I trust what is so dishonest? I spend my days lying to these good people. I have come to love many of them, and they look at me with such confidence. But little do they know that I am the same cloaked figure they have glimpsed limping in the distance, the same woman from which they have cast away their eyes in fear, the very witch that haunts their children’s dreams.”

“All that proves, Shoney, is that their fear is unwarranted and always has been, their hearts blinded by a prejudice, nurtured only by custom. And ye know there are those women among us who have secretly revered yer mother, yer grandmother, and so on...and ye my dear. It has been in the spirit of deceit that they have sought yer tender healing. They have secreted away in the night, lying to their husbands, to feel the healing touch of the Witch of Dervaig.”

Shoney was again amazed by Anwen’s awareness. It seemed that she had no secrets when it came to Ronan’s mother.

“How did ye know about our midnight visitors?” Shoney asked.

“I hold the confidence of the women in the village. They have all come to me in private to reveal their true hearts and minds, and I have never betrayed a trust before, not even to Nathair.”

Anwen reached out and gently took her hand. “But what else bothers ye, Shoney? I feel ye are not telling me something.”

Shoney stared into Anwen’s unwavering eyes. At times, Shoney was convinced that Anwen had the gift of sight as well, because she always seemed to know Shoney’s heart...or perhaps she had a different gift.

“Anwen,” Shoney whispered. “Can ye hear other people’s thoughts?”

Anwen laughed out loud. She seemed delighted by Shoney’s question. “Nay, lass, I am just getting on in years. What is in another’s eyes is clearer as ye age—a small consolation given everything ye lose as ye get older.” She chuckled again. “Nay, Shoney, I do not share yer gift.”

Shoney’s mouth dropped open. “How did ye know about my gift?”

“I didn’t know for certain until now, but yer mother told me of her visions when we were girls. I’ve been wondering for some time now whether ye shared this gift.” Anwen leaned closer, her eyes seemed like daggers, cutting through the barriers of Shoney’s mind, seeking the truth only Shoney could reveal.

“Is this what weighs on ye, lass? Have ye had a vision of what may come to pass?”

The image of Ronan’s proud strong back ripped open by the enemy’s sword tore through her mind, but she chased the vision away. She could not bear to tell Anwen of her son’s demise—possible demise. Shoney still clung to the slightest shred of hope that Ronan would indeed make his own fate. Anyway, that morning she had collapsed under the overwhelming force of a new vision, a new terror. The vision had left her breathless and stricken with grief.

Shoney closed her eyes. “There was a lone slender billed Curlew flying high over Gribun. Its plaintive song reverberated through my ears, twisting my heart with sorrow. The faces of yer kinfolk were contorted with anguish. Many collapsed, sobbing with grief. Then the bird too began to cry. Its tears fell like sheets of rain that soon overwhelmed the village and flooded the crops.” Shoney’s eyes flew open, suddenly aware of her own freshly shed tears. She felt as though she were drowning in misery.

“Go on, Shoney, what follows?” Anwen implored, her eyes were wide with apprehension.

“’Tis all, I’m afraid,” Shoney replied.

“But what does it mean?” Anwen urged.

“The significance of a vision is sometimes very plain. Often, however, they are symbolic and require interpretation. In this case, all that can be divined for certain is that misfortune flies this way.”

“But what form does this calamity take?”

“I know not, nor do I know how best to prepare,” Shoney said.

Anwen, who had slumped in her chair, suddenly sat straight. Hardness gleamed in her eyes. “We shall prepare in every way.” She rose and strode to the door and threw it open. “Flora,” she called. “Bring to me, Bhaltair.”

Shoney followed her. “What do ye intend, Anwen?”

“We shall take no chances. We are going to double the watch on the stores and the grounds. Also, I want ye to examine every villager to prevent an outbreak of disease.” Anwen passed through the door, leaving Shoney still sitting with her mouth agape. She decided Anwen could be a formidable woman when required.

“Come, now, Shoney. There is much to be done. ”

Shoney surged forward, obeying her lady’s command.

They entered the great hall. Straight away, Anwen began giving orders. She sent Bhaltair off with instruction to double the guard against the MacLeans. She put Morna in charge of ensuring the harvest was completed ahead of schedule. Then she ordered Shoney to return to her hut and await the first villagers to be examined.

Shoney marveled at the bustle of activity that awaited her in the village. Everyone was doing Anwen’s bidding as though it were the command of the laird. By the next afternoon, she had examined almost all the inhabitants of Gribun. At least a dozen people still waited outside her door, but one stubborn little boy was holding up the line by refusing to stick out his tongue. She was about to ask Una, who was acting as her assistant, to tickle the lad until he surrendered when the bell sounded.

Una inhaled sharply. “’Tis the alarm,” she whispered.

“Do not panic,” Shoney instructed. Together they raced outside. “Come along, everyone,” Shoney called. “Perhaps, Anwen summons us.”

Shoney led the villagers through Gribun’s winding paths, passing huts and workshops, and meeting others along the way. They arrived at the baily where they found Argyle standing alone.

“What’s happening?” Shoney asked the elder.

“The watch spotted a small vessel sailing this way.” Argyle’s words swept through the villagers like a happy breeze. The baily hummed with hopeful chatter of the men’s return. “Anwen and the others have already headed down to port to meet him,” Argyle added .

“Him? Ye mean to say, this vessel carries but one man,” Shoney exclaimed, and a hush settled over the crowd.

“Only one of our warriors returns,” Una cried, her eyes wide with fear.

“It must be a messenger,” Shoney called for all to hear. “Perhaps, he brings word from yer laird. Let us join the others and go meet him.”

“Bridget.”

Shoney turned to see who addressed her and found Bhaltair looking down at her from atop his horse.

“Give me yer hand, and I will take ye ahead,” he said, reaching down and lifting her into the seat in front of him.

“Ride like death is behind us,” she whispered. “I must know what has happened.”

They rode through the village and down to the port just as the lone sailor stepped from his vessel.

“’Tis Aidan,” Shoney exclaimed.

She was pleased to note that he looked no worse for wear. She smiled when Morna rush forward to greet him. It was a loving reunion, and Shoney glimpsed the joy that had set Morna’s face aglow. Next, Anwen welcomed Aidan home. She pulled him into a motherly embrace. Then they stood facing each other, Anwen standing with her back to Shoney. Shoney leaned forward trying to hear Aidan’s message but to no avail.

Shoney prayed to the Mother of all for joyful tidings, but when Anwen released a shrill sob and collapsed at Aidan’s feet, Shoney’s blood ran cold .

“Nay,” Anwen cried. Over and over again, she wept her denial. Each sob was a knife to Shoney’s heart, obliterating the hope that had kept her going over the past weeks.

Shoney slipped from the horse and stumbled to the ground. Her ears rang. She couldn’t breathe. Bhaltair was soon at her side, asking if she was alright, but his distant voice sounded like a dream. Was it all just a horrible nightmare?

Villagers pushed past her as they tried to reach Aidan and learn of their loved one’s fate. In a daze, she stood on the outskirts. Through a haze of confusion and sorrow, she watched her new-found sisters grieve for their fallen husbands and sons as terrified children clung to their skirts. All feeling left her. Ronan was gone. Her vision had come to fruition.

“It is done,” she said aloud. “All is lost.”

Misfortune had found its way to Mull, despite earlier preparations. No action or planning could have prevented the sorrow that now swept through the clan. Their tears ran freely as they waded through a deluge of grief. Shoney could not bear to listen to their sobs any longer. She turned away and headed back toward the village. Misery engulfed her, coursing through her veins. She felt as though she were on fire. She wished to tear at her flesh and pull it away from her heart, which quivered and pulsated in anguish.

The village, which was usually a bustle of activity, was eerily silent. Even the animals seemed to sense the recent devastation as they hid away in their pens. Dragging her feet on legs that longed to give way, Shoney at last pushed her door open and went inside her hut. Her eyes were drawn straight away to the little basket near her chair. It overflowed with baby clothes Anwen had given her. Some of which she had made but many of the pieces had been Ronan’s when he was a babe.

They would be his legacy to his child. She gathered each piece and stuffed them all in a satchel. She could not stay in Gribun without him. Despite her newfound friends, her heart would not allow her to remain. Pain mounted inside of her, pushing against the walls she had temporarily erected. But they would soon give way. She wanted to be home when they finally tumbled down, and her sorrow was released.

A knock sounded at the door. Shoney’s head snapped around. “Shoney are ye in there? ‘Tis Aidan.”

“Go away, Aidan. I do not wish to see ye,” she said. “I do not wish to see anyone ever again,” she whispered.

The door pushed open. Aidan stepped inside. His eyes moved to the satchel in her hand.

“Ye’re packing?” he asked.

“Aye,” she said before returning to the task.

“Ye mean to leave, Shoney?”

She did not reply.

“I rode ahead of the others to find ye. The women are worried about ye, and they seek yer comfort during this difficult time. How can ye abandon them?” He grabbed her arms, forcing her to look at him.

“Shoney, this is yer home now.”

“Nay, Aidan,” she spat. “This is not my home. Ye used deception to bring me here. Remember? This has never been my home. This is Bridget’s hut not Shoney’s.”

“Regardless of how ye came to be here, ye are here now, and the people need ye,” he said.

She turned away from him and stared numbly at the glowing ashes left over from her morning fire. Her sorrow was so great that she was afraid its release would destroy her. She took a deep breath to bolster the internal wall keeping her emotions at bay. There was no room inside her heart for the guilt Aidan was trying to use against her. But, unwittingly, her mind returned to Anwen’s crumpling body as Aidan broke the news of Ronan’s death. Shoney tasted bitter remorse. Her newfound sisters were suffering just as she was.

“My heart is with Anwen,” she murmured before she continued to focus on the glowing embers. “Having already lost her first son to battle, this is too great a heartache for one soul to bear.”

“Aye, the whole clan mourns his passing,” Aidan said. “He was a devoted leader. Even Argyle said he could not recall or heard mention of a better chieftain.”

“What?” she cried, looking at Aidan.

“Nathair,” he said. “His death is a tragedy.”

Her eyes opened wide. She could not speak or breathe. She stumbled over to him and grabbed hold of his arms. She tried to utter the words her heart was shouting.

“Ronan, Ronan,” she croaked.

“Ronan?” Aidan repeated.

“Dead. Ronan is dead. ”

“Ronan is alive, Shoney,” he said.

Her knees gave way, and she collapsed to the ground. The walls holding back her emotions crumbled. The numbness left her body as sensation surged through her. She shook with sobs. The love, the relief was too great to contain.

“Shoney, why do ye cry?” Aidan tried to lift her chin to force her eyes to meet his, but she refused.

“Go away, Aidan,” she sobbed.

“Shoney, I thought ye would be happy to know Ronan lived,” he said.

“Go away,” she screamed.

He scurried out the door.

Her head dropped again to the ground. She wailed, rolling onto her back and covering her face with her hands. She cried for the unbearable pain she had felt every day since he first left, thinking she would never see him again. She cried for the countless number of times she touched her stomach knowing he would never hold his child. She cried for the agony that seized her soul when she thought for sure she had lost him.

But he was alive. He was alive .

The reality that Ronan lived was beginning to set in. She choked back her tears.

He was alive .

Suddenly, her sobs were replaced with laughter.

He was alive .

She stood up and twirled around the room. Soon he would be home and then...She stopped dancing... and then what ?

Mother of all, at last she must decide. Was she to be Shoney or Bridget?

The image of her mother blazed in her mind’s eye. Shoney saw her standing once again amid the Dervaig Stones, but it was not a vision that filled her mind, simply a memory. She was a little girl. Her mother had painted lovely blue images on their cheeks of animals and symbols of the gods. Brethia began to dance, weaving around the standing stones and leaping over the ones that slumbered. Shoney could hear the lilting sound her own childish laughter. Her mother raced toward her and took hold of her hands, and together they spun around and around. The sky above her blurred into a blue and white swirl, and all the while her beautiful mother smiled, radiating love. She lifted Shoney into her arms. Shoney remembered the smell of her mother’s hair and the secure pressure of her embrace, and she remembered her mother’s words:

“Ye bring my life joy, Shoney.”

The words echoed in her mind, and all that had been muddled was at that moment as clear as the spring rain. Shoney knew what she would do. She would honor her mother.