Hannah nodded and rose to face him. “Everyone deserves forgiveness, Papa,” she said with a tender smile, “even you.”
*
*
*
T
he moon lit their way back to the castle. Hannah didn’t speak, reflecting on her past. She felt sorry for her mother and the disgrace she’d suffered. What kind of woman had she been like? Hannah’s father had said Cecelia was clever and pretty, but he offered little insight beyond that. But then he was still a mystery to Hannah himself.
She stole a glimpse at his forbidding warrior’s profile. She couldn’t believe this powerful man was her papa. Had he really been the demon who had terrorized the castle in his youth? Hannah had heard the most amazing stories about his misdeeds. What a wicked bastard he must have been.
She grinned, wishing she had known him then. She suspected she’d inherited his wild streak, which Mother Judith had worked so tirelessly to tame. Hannah was afraid the woman had failed, and she didn’t miss the convent at all. Coming to the castle made her feel as if she’d sprouted wings. She couldn’t wait to test her freedom.
Her father helped her dismount when they reached the keep. He looked worried, and she knew he cared about her.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come with me and Marsali when we leave, lass?” he asked. “We’re both of us happy to give you a home.”
“Oh, Papa.” Tears shone in her eyes. “This is my home.”
“This?” He cast a dubious glance around the castle grounds. Johnnie had ambled off for a few rounds of golf in the moat. “This crumbling old pile of stones?”
She nodded shyly, but the feeling in her heart was bold and sure. She loved this moldering castle with every fiber of her being. She accepted her eccentric clansmen with an unconditional love and loyalty that they, in their childlike warmth, were only too glad to return. Cook had welcomed her openly like the long-lost child she truly was. Hannah felt a sense of belonging for the first time in her life.
She was convinced she had been brought back here for a purpose. She had visions of restoring the castle to its former glory. She had no idea how she would accomplish this miracle, but Mother Judith had taught her the power of faith.
Hannah had found her heart’s home.
Epilogue
“
I
can’t believe I’m a duchess,” Marsali confided as she peered into the oversized trunk at the foot of the bed. “I’d barely gotten used to being the chieftain’s wife, and now we’re going away.”
Effie handed her a chemise. Marsali tossed it halfheartedly into the trunk. “Things won’t be the same in the castle without you and the chieftain—I mean, the duke.”
“Aye.” Marsali sighed, curling her bare feet under her bottom.
“
He’ll always be the chieftain to me too, Effie, and he’s promised we’ll come back every summer.”
Effie polished her spectacles on one of Duncan’s shirts. “What a shame, Marsali.”
Marsali vented another sigh. Duncan was about to be appointed to the War Office, a cabinet position he swore he would dedicate to keeping peace, and there were rumors of a possible diplomatic post. “Well, in the scheme of things, Effie, I know that world peace is probably a wee bit more important than my personal life, but I’m glad he won’t be going off to battle, even though it means we’ll have to stay off and on in London, which everyone knows is a wicked city.”
“I almost forgot,” Effie said, putting her hand to her
mouth. “I just found out this morning that Ailis is expecting.”
Marsali looked up with a grin. “More piglets, Effie. Well, congratulations. You’ll have your hands full.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone—it’s supposed to be a secret—but I’m expecting too.”
“That was fast,” Effie said, grinning broadly.
“Well, Effie, don’t tell the chieftain this either, but I’m working on another secret. If I can’t convince him to move back to the castle by the time the baby is due, I’m going to bring the whole clan to live in our Border manor house. Won’t he be surprised?”
“I’ll say. By the way, is he still going to have Jamie hanged for treason?”
“Worse. They’re cutting off his lovely golden hair.” Marsali grinned ruefully. “It’s a good thing for Jamie that the British soldier he beat up recovered with only a few bruises to show for it.”
“But I thought the chieftain swore to kill Jamie if he ever set eyes on him again.”
“Aye, he did. But Jamie begged his pardon on bended knee and promised never to trouble us again. Duncan’s arranged for his release, but he isn’t happy about it.”
“Marsali!”
Effie glanced at the door. “That’s the chieftain bellowing for you again.”
“The duke,” Marsali corrected her, springing up from the floor as the door burst open and Duncan, exuding impatience and male energy, entered the room.
“Aren’t you packed yet?” He stared in dismay at the garments strewn all over the bed. “My God, what have you done to my clothes? Put your shoes on. Good morning, Effie. Did you both forget about the ceremony at the cove?”
“What ceremony?” Marsali asked, frowning as he began to rearrange the things she’d tossed willy-nilly into the trunk, including his uniform and lead soldiers.
“Those are verra nice dolls, my lord,” Effie said politely
.
“It’s ‘his grace’ now.” Marsali shook her head wistfully at the thought. “What ceremony are you talking about, your grace?”
Duncan closed the trunk, suppressing a smile. “The ceremony to name the temporary chieftainess. She’s to be sworn in on the white stone in fifteen minutes.”
“She?” Marsali and Effie said in unison, astonished.
Duncan picked up his black cockaded hat from the bed. “Yes, she. The only person in this damned castle who seems to command enough power to keep the clan under control. The woman most respected by my dunderhead kinsmen.” He paused, bowing with a broad grin at Marsali. “Except, of course, for my extraordinary wife.”
Marsali smiled at his warm expressi
on. “But then who…
”
He put on his hat, then tossed her a pair of shoes. “Cook. Now come along. We can’t be late.”
T
here wasn’t a dry eye among the clan. Every last person—the men, women, and children gathered at the cove—shed at least one tear of sheer terror at the prospect of what lay ahead. The chieftainess had already threatened to make them take a bath once a month.
Cook looked resplendent in her tartan knife-pleated kilt and plaid, with her badger-skin sporran at her ample waist, her sturdy legs encased i
n white woolen hose and silver-
buckled shoes. Her iron-gray h
air blew in the breeze, topped
by a bonnet with a sprig of rue, the MacElgin plant.
Marsali grinned as she watched Duncan step up to the white stone, washed smooth by the sea, to hand Cook the wand of office. The crowd gave a half-hearted cheer when, next, he presented her with the traditional sword, which she would wear next to her rolling pin. Agnes wasn’t a woman to forget her humble origins. His deep voice rose in the silence, sending chills of pride down Marsali’s spine as he began to recount Agnes’s deeds of bravery and loyal service.
It was a ceremony that called for something special, a supernatural touch to make it a truly memorable event.
Marsali gazed up at the horizon, where the blue-green Scottish sea met blue sky. She raised her arms, feeling power surge through her. A strong wind sprang up, churning whitecaps on the waves that pounded majestically against the shore. Thunder belched in the heavens. A violet-gold glow backlit the clouds.
Duncan paused to glance down wryly at his wife. An ironic smile softened his austere face.
She gave him a happy grin, immensely pleased with herself. It was just the right touch of magic. Not too overdone.
F
rom the deck of the shipwrecked frigate that sat at a lopsided angle below them, the wizard and his wayward daughter couldn’t have agreed more.
“I wish I could do that,” Fiona said with a sigh of envy.
“So do I,” her father said, patting her hand. “But please don’t try today. You just might sink the ship.”
Fiona glanced up at the hawk riding an air current above the cove. “I wonder if Eun will follow her to London. Do you think she’ll ever use her power again?”
“Only time will tell, Fiona.”
“What a waste. I tried talking to the seals again, Papa, but I don’t think they understood me. Could you show me how just one more time?”
Colum sighed in irrit
ation. “Solving the problems of
two troublesome girls is not how I planned to spend my twilight years, Fiona. At my age I should be studying immortality, or battling demons. I only have so much energy left.”
The ceremony had ended. Duncan climbed down the staircase of stones to lift Marsali into the air, spinning her around and around until they collapsed together on the soft white sand. Their laughter blended melodiously into the wild music of the wind and the sea.
Fiona giggled, clasping her hands to her chest in delight.
There was even a ghost of a smile on the wizard’s gaunt face as he returned to his cabin and to the spells he had yet to cast for the magical child Marsali and Duncan would soon bring into the world.