To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull #1)

Chapter Twenty Seven

R onan stood at the bow of his ship, staring at the cliffs of Mull. They were almost home. Figures lined the pier, waiting to welcome them. He strained to glimpse Shoney’s sleek figure and flaxen hair, but he saw no trace of her. Every night since they had first set out from Largs, he dreamt of her standing on the dock, smiling and waving as they sailed into port. He had imagined climbing onto the wharf while she rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck and declaring once and for all her undying love.

“Fool,” he swore aloud.

“Ronan,” Dugald said behind him.

“Aye, what is it,” Ronan snapped.

“Nothing,” Dugald said, backing away. “’Tis just...I just wanted to say we were home.”

Dugald’s eyes mirrored his own tormented soul. The dark images of war often came to the forefront of his mind. His thoughts seldom strayed from his brothers who now lay for all eternity beneath a land upon which their families would never tread.

Three days had passed since they had landed on Iona and buried his father’s sword beside the grave of their MacKinnon ancestor, King Kenneth MacAlpin. He sent Aidan ahead to tell of their coming. By now everyone would know of the many men lost to the enemy. He returned home to a people plagued by grief. But he would rally their spirits and lead them into a new era where they were no longer a territory in dispute but as much a part of Scotland as Edinburgh or Glasgow.

Dugald’s anguished eyes turned to Mull and lit with joy. The other warriors seemed to share the same internal battle. Ronan did not want his men to suppress their gladness. They were alive and grateful to be so. He smiled and put his hand on Dugald’s shoulder.

“Aye, Dugald, we are home, my friend.”

Turning to the rest of his men, he cheered, “We are home.” Celebration ensued and all at once, the atmosphere grew lighter on board. Life would move forward. The clan would heal. His eyes scanned the ever-growing crowd that lined the pier, yet he still did not see Shoney. He now regretted his resolve to respect her wishes. He decided on the journey home that if she had left Gribun—if she had left him—then he would let her go, but now that this was appearing more and more likely, he doubted he could be so noble.

Anguish lingered in the eyes of every MacKinnon and fresh tears seeped down their cheeks, but the onlookers cheered as their heroes returned from war. No sooner had Ronan climbed onto the pier then he was knocked back into the sea by the eager embraces of his clan. Numerous hands reached down to pull their new, sopping wet laird out of the water. When he wiped his eyes, his mother’s face appeared before him. He pulled her into a tight embrace. Grief had altered her appearance. Her hair, barely touched by silver before he left, was streaked with a thick band of white. Her eyes were lined with pain, but they sparkled when they searched his face. And the arms that embraced him were strong.

“My son, ye are home,” she whispered. “Thank ye, Blessed Mother, for protecting my son.”

Ronan smiled and kissed her cheek. “Aye, mother, I am home.”

“Ronan,” someone said softly behind him. He turned and there was Una, the pride of Guthrie’s life. Her dark curls framed her ashen face as tears streamed from her black eyes. She clutched her new baby close to her heart.

“Och, Una.” He pressed his lips together, fighting to rid his mind of Guthrie’s blank stare and the gruesome sight of his belly torn asunder.

“Aidan told me...,” Una’s voice broke. She turned away. Then she forced her shoulders back and faced Ronan again. “Aidan told me that ye saw Guthrie.”

“Aye, Una. I did.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “He did not suffer,” he lied. “And no one fought as bravely.” His voice broke. He fought back his own tears. “He was blessed by the king’s priest and laid to rest beside his brothers.”

Una, as strong as the land beneath their feet, nodded her head in acceptance. She placed a kiss upon her son’s brow and said, “Ye will tell wee Guthrie about his father, about how valiantly he fought.”

“Aye, Una, I promise ye I will.”

Ronan peered at the tiny babe and smiled. “He looks like his da. He’ll be sure to have his da’s strength and goodness, I’d wager.”

Una beamed at Ronan’s words. Then she cleared her throat and in a brighter voice asked, “What are ye dawdling down here for? I’d have thought ye’d be racing to meet Bridget by now.”

Astonished, Ronan did not reply at first, and when he did, he stuttered like an untested whelp. “Ye mean Bridget is here, here in Gribun?”

“Bless me, Ronan,” Una said, smiling. “Where else would she be?”

Ronan turned on his heel without another word to anyone and strode over to the nearest horse, which he mounted and kicked hard in the flank. His mind raced faster than the horse galloped as he headed toward the village. He was plagued by questions, but none could hold his focus. When he tried to think about why she stayed—was it just because of the promise or had she decided to make Gribun her home—her image filled his mind, leaving room for nothing else. He could not believe that after traveling so many leagues, after so much darkness and bloodshed, he was finally going to see Shoney. He would stand in front of her and touch her and listen to the gentle rhythm of her voice and smell her waves of golden hair .

“What in God’s name,” Ronan exclaimed as his horse was yanked to a halt by someone else’s hand. “Are ye a blasted lunatic, Aidan?” Ronan shouted. “What are ye doing?”

Aidan stared at Ronan’s reins still gripped in his hand as though he too could not believe what he had just done.

“There had best be a fire somewhere or a ship sinking. Explain yerself, Aidan.”

“Och, Ronan. I’ve been racing after ye, shouting yer name, practically begging ye to stop. But ye either refused, or ye somehow didn’t hear me.”

Ronan’s anger eased a little when he discovered his friend had tried to get his attention by more traditional means. “Sorry, my mind was indeed occupied, and I didn’t hear ye.”

“It was her; was it not? Ye were thinking about Shoney. ‘Tis where ye’re racing off to.”

“Aye, and if it is all the same to ye, ‘tis where I would like to race off to again. Whatever ye need will have to wait.”

Thinking the matter settled, Ronan nudged his horse forward, but once again, Aidan caught his reins. Ronan grabbed hold of Aidan’s wrist, and in a menacing tone, he said, “I did not like that the first time, and unless I am mistaken, ‘tis my arse which rides this horse and yer arse which is asking for a good wallop. Keep yer hands to yerself, or I will see that ye cannot sit a horse for a week.”

“Would ye just listen to me, ye pig headed oaf,” Aidan snapped. “’Tis about Shoney. ”

Ronan grabbed hold of Aidan’s shirt and, almost lifting him clear out of his saddle, pulled him close so that Aidan’s face was nigh a breath from his own.

“What about Shoney?” he growled.

“What I am going to say I truly believe or else I would not risk the beating I am sure to receive.”

“Quit babbling, Aidan, and make yer point,” Ronan snapped.

“I think ye’ve misjudged Shoney, or at least how she feels about ye.”

“What?” Ronan could not have been more surprised. The sincerity of Shoney’s affection was not the question Ronan was expecting Aidan to pose.

“Ye had best have a good reason for what ye just said.”

“If ye let go of me, I’ll tell ye,” Aidan said.

“Nay. I intend to hold on securely to ensure ye do not slip away. That way I do not have to chase ye down if I decide in the end that ye do deserve a good beating. And let me just say, Aidan, odds are moving in that direction.”

“Alright, I’ll get right to it. The day I arrived and told yer mother about yer da’s passing, Shoney believed it was ye who had died, and to be painfully honest, she didn’t seem too broken hearted. But when I told her that ye lived, the lass broke into tears and raged at me to get out of her hut as though I delivered ill news.”

“Ye’re lying,” Ronan growled through gritted teeth.

“I have never lied to ye, Ronan.”

Ronan’s grip on Aidan’s plaid slackened. He stared out in a daze over the moors. Could it be true? Could the very woman he had yearned for, stayed alive for truly wished he’d died? He felt as though someone had just struck him hard in the stomach, knocking the breath from his body.

“When ye saw her again did she offer any explanation?” Ronan asked.

“I haven’t seen her. She has stayed in her hut these three days. Only yer mother, Una, and Morna have spoken to her. And to be honest, I don’t think I could have faced her if she had come out.”

Ronan was not prepared for this. He knew she might not wish to relinquish her past and remain in the village as Bridget, but he never distrusted her love. A part of him wanted to race back to the ships and run away from the doubt now plaguing his heart, but he was not going to flee. He would not back down. After coming so far and fighting through the very depths of hell to return to her, by God, he would hear her denial of their love from her own lips.

“Get out of my way, Aidan,” he snarled. Aidan did not have to be asked twice, for which Ronan was thankful. Rage threatened to explode inside of him, and Aidan would not have escaped injury if he tried to intervene again.

Once more, Ronan dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, pushing the beast onward as if the Devil himself was behind him in flaming pursuit. He sped through the village pathways heedless of the chickens and sheep that skirted the horse’s pounding hooves. When he came upon Shoney’s hut, he pulled his mount to an abrupt halt and leapt to the ground. He stomped up to the door and raised his fist, swinging it down with pounding force but stopped just before his knuckles connected with the wood.

What was wrong with him?

He turned away from the door, running his hand through his hair in frustration. What was he going to do—break down the door and demand she love him, thrash her until she yielded? Either she loved him or she didn’t. Either she was willing to surrender the things of her past and make a new life with him or she wasn’t...There was only one way to find out.

He turned back to the doorway and took a deep breath. Then he rapped lightly on the wood.

She did not call for him to enter.

He knocked a little louder and still received no response. He slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. She sat at the fire with her back to him.

He cleared his throat. “Shoney, I knocked, but ye didn’t answer.”

She did not turn around.

“I have returned, Shoney, just as I said I would.”

Still, she would not face him.

He ached to rush to her and lift her into his arms. He did not understand how she could be so cold, so unfeeling. Aidan must have been right.

He straightened his stance. If he could face the fiercest Viking warriors, then he could face a mere slip of a lass. But despite the valor of his thoughts, his hands shook with nerves. His fate, his future happiness was about to be decided .

“Shoney, I need to know once and for all,” he stated. “Will ye build a home with me and a family? Will ye be my wife?”

She did not answer.

“Shoney, why do ye not look at me?” Ronan implored, his resolve weakening.

“Answer me, Shoney...Shoney?”

Then she stood.

He held his breath as he watched her pivot. First, he glimpsed her profile—her pert nose and downcast eyes. Then, finally, she faced him. Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her mouth was fixed in a grim line.

“How dare ye call me Shoney.” She stomped toward him and stuck her all too familiar finger in his face. “My name,” she said. Then her lips curved into a smile. “Is Bridget.”

As the meaning of her words rang clear, he collapsed to his knees and expelled the breath he had been holding. “Ye little minx. I have been to hell and back. I have witnessed unspeakable atrocities. But nothing I have seen could have prepared me for the brutality ye inflicted upon my innocent heart just now,” he said with feigned soberness.

“Given how ye so cruelly earned my promise before ye left, I felt a little suspense would not go amiss.” She smiled before throwing her arms around his neck.

He bent his head to press his forehead to hers. “I supposed I deserved that. Although was my torture truly so cruel? I can still hear yer cries of pleasure.” He lowered his lips to kiss her, but he hesitated. “Ye will stay with me then?” he asked. He had to be certain. He needed to hear the words.

“Are ye daft?” she laughed. “Aye, Ronan, Laird of the MacKinnon, I vow to love ye and to live out the rest of my days here with ye.”

He threw his head back and hollered. Then he grabbed her waist and lifted her high in the air. Pieces of dried peat broke off as her head grazed the ceiling. He spun her around and around in circles. He could not stop laughing, and she seemed equally unable to contain her mirth. The sound of their laughter filled the confines of the small hut. He imagined the walls threatened to collapse under the collective pressure of their contentment. Then once again he pulled her close. “Ye will never regret loving me,” he whispered. He stared into her stormy gray eyes. “But Shoney...”

“Ye mean Bridget, don’t ye,” she smiled.

He shook his head. “Never when we are alone.” He grinned. “But I must know. Why did Aidan say ye grieved when he told ye I was alive? Is the regret and sacrifice of loving me too great to bear?”

She pressed a kiss to his lips. “I have no regrets, and I make no sacrifice. One day, I will stand before our people as Shoney. This I do not doubt. Until that day, I honor my mother most by loving ye.”

“I do not understand,” he said.

“It was not my mother’s convictions or her beliefs that truly gave her life meaning. It was me,” she smiled. “I gave my mother joy, and I know now that what she would want most is for me to find joy in my own life. Ye see, Ronan, I understand this now because...,” her voice trailed off as she blushed and averted her eyes.

He cupped her cheeks forcing her gaze to meet his own.

“Because why?” he said.

“Because I know how it feels to love as a mother does.” Her tears fell as she took his hand and pressed it to her stomach. He could not believe it. There was a slight roundness to her that had not been there before. He dropped to his knees and bending his head, he placed a kiss on her belly. “How exquisite ye are to me,” he whispered. “From out of great loss springs forth new life. We shall have many children.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled. “Aye, my dear, my hunger for ye is such that ye shall never go long without one of my sons or daughters growing inside ye.”

She playfully swatted him before wrapping her arms around his neck. He stood, lifting her again in the air.

“Ye’re everything to me,” he whispered. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, slowly taking full possession of her lips. He held her tightly, vowing to spend the rest of his days ensuring hers were always filled with joy.