Torrian (The Highland Clan Book 2) (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

“Shut up, did you not hear me? Just stop the drivel that pours from your mouth.” Ranulf had heard enough. “Do you not recall the idea of using chicken blood ‘twas your idea, old man?”

Glenn Buchan was relentless. “Forget all that has happened. Where do we go from here?”

Ranulf spat off to the side as he galloped beside the Buchan chieftain. “We attack the whoresons, that’s where we go from here. We return to your castle, gather our guards, and go after them. They’ve insulted you, me, and your daughter.”

Glenn said, “Mayhap ‘tis time to rest the issue for a while and think on our strategy. Build our forces. What say you, Dugald?”

Dugald replied, “I’m with the MacNiven. We attack. They’ve embarrassed my beloved sister, and someone needs to pay.”

Ranulf muttered, “And we’ll do it so fast they’ll never see us coming.”

***

Heather was so pleased to see Torrian and the rest of his clan return that she almost cried with relief. She’d squinted and squinted over the valley to see if Davina was with them on horseback, but there was no sign of her.

Fearing there was still a chance all had not gone according to plan, she stayed inside until they arrived, Nellie at her side. Once the group reached the portcullis, though, the Ramsay war whoop was so loud that she knew they had won. Huddling in the corner near the hearth, she waited, her heart full of anxiety, until the first person came through the door—Torrian. His gaze searched the hall until he found hers and the smile on his face shot straight to her core. Could it be?

“Torrian?” she whispered.

He held his arms out to her and she raced into them until he picked her up and swung her around in a circle. Kyle came in directly behind him, overflowing with questions. He’d stayed behind to guard the castle, and apparently heard tales already.

When Torrian set Heather down, he greeted Kyle and waved for Nellie to join them.

“I cannot believe what I’ve heard. Is it true wee Jennet saved your arse?” Kyle whispered as Torrian picked Nellie up for a hug.

The door opened, and Jennet and Brigid rushed into the great room. Torrian picked up first Jennet and then Brigid, swinging them up over his head in glee. “You heard correctly, Kyle. Wee Jennet had Ranulf MacNiven shaking in his boots with fury. ‘Twas something to see. This lassie brought that scum to his knees in front of the King of the Scots.” He set both lassies down.

Jennet peered up at him with a frown. “I did not see Ranulf kneel to the King. When did that transpire?”

“Och, Jennet, ‘tis an expression.”

Kyle choked on the laugh he was holding back.

Jennet headed up the stairs to her chamber. “I am of the hope he will not ask me for another vial of blood again. I had to make a promise to my mama.” Brigid giggled into her hand and followed her cousin up the stairs, then said, “Nellie, would you like to come with us?”

Nellie looked at her mother, then scampered up the stairs as soon as Heather nodded.

Once the wee ones were out of hearing distance, Torrian led Kyle and Heather over to the hearth to explain all to them. All while he spoke, he held tight to Heather’s hand, and when he finished, he shrugged his shoulders and stared at Heather. “I’m free to marry as I wish. We have some planning to do, wife-to be.”

Heather threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

***

Two days later, they had not gotten much further in their planning and they slept apart, though Torrian loved to sneak kisses from her. He’d told her they would marry when he’d return, but each time she’d mentioned their wedding, he’d changed the subject. She did not understand why, but she believed the wedding had taken on some form of secrecy. Her only concern was marrying in front of a crowd. She was definitely more comfortable around his family, but would she be able to marry him in front of his entire clan?

Some of the Grants arrived that day, though she was unsure if it was expected or not, but she was too busy trying to sew herself a new gown for her wedding to pay much attention. The garment was a pale green color similar to the buds on the trees in early spring. Nellie was off with her new friends. A knock sounded at her door, and she beckoned the caller inside.

Brenna stood in her doorway. “If you are not too busy, lass, we’d like to invite you to a special gathering.”

Heather had no idea what Brenna was about, but she adored her mother-to-be and would never turn her down. Having never had a mother or father, she treasured Torrian’s parents and hoped to have a strong relationship with them. So far, they had been wonderful. “Of course,” she said.

Though she followed Brenna down the passageway without question, she could not imagine where she was being led or why. There were many Grants chatting in the great hall, but Brenna led her past them, to where Torrian was standing beside the door to his sire’s solar. He held his hand out to her, and she gladly took it. She wished to ask him what to expect, but she found she could not.

Brenna kissed her on the cheek and walked away, which puzzled her even more. “I know this will be a shock to you,” Torrian said, reaching up to stroke her face, “but I think you’ll be pleased.”

He must have seen the confusion on her face because he kissed her cheek and said, “Trust me, lass. I have chosen to do this in this manner because I love you so.”

With a sudden whoosh inside her belly, her fear took over.

She clutched his hand with a death grip, and she could feel her heartbeat speed up. Glancing at him, she tried to speak but naught came out. The laughter of the group echoed behind her, reminding her how many were now in the hall. Could she handle this?

Torrian stopped, placed his finger under her chin, and locked his gaze on hers. “Sweeting, ‘twill be all right. I’m with you. Trust in me.”

The entire hall seemed to close in on her as her breathing increased. How would she ever learn to get past her fears? She closed her eyes for a moment to breathe in Torrian’s scent in an attempt to relax her body.

“Aye, take another deep breath. I’ll not leave your side. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, opening her eyes again slowly, focusing on him.

“Follow me. There are not many inside.”

Heather stepped cautiously inside the solar. Father Rab was facing her, talking with another priest who had his back to her. Wee Kenzie was there too, along with another lad speaking to Quade and Brodie.

She took another deep breath and was pleased to feel her insides calm.

Kenzie ran to her side and tugged on her arm. “Please come closer.”

He pulled her over to the lad with the tousled, sun-colored hair, and the lad turned to her. At the same time, the priest who was with Father Rab gave her his full attention.

“Heather, this is my adopted cousin, Loki,” Torrian said, “and this is his sire, Father Francis Prestwick.”

“Greetings,” Heather did a small curtsy, but she froze the instant she lifted her gaze to the two in front of her.

Looking at the lad called Loki was like seeing her reflection in the loch, only he was male. She stood a distance away yet, but the pressure of a small pair of hands against her back propelled her forward until she stood almost nose-to-nose with Loki.

A giggle erupted behind her and Kenzie said, “Look closer, lass.” Kenzie moved to her side and held his head tilted as if waiting for something.

Then she understood. She stared into Loki’s one blue eye and one green eye, and her heart burst open. Then she glanced at his sire, only to gasp again and take a step back.

Torrian squeezed her hand and pulled her to a nearby chair. “I think we should all sit.”

Loki took the chair opposite Heather and his sire—could he be
their
sire?—sat next to him. She heard Quade leave the room, and Brodie followed, tugging wee Kenzie by the hand. “You’ve seen your favorite part, Kenzie.”

“I ken, but ‘twas it not the best, grandsire? It gets better each time.”

Soon the only ones left in the room with her besides Torrian were Loki and the two priests.

Her voice cracked and she whispered, “I do not understand.”

“Please, allow me to explain,” Father Francis said.

She nodded and folded her hands into her lap while Torrian sat in the chair next to hers and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Father Francis said, “Many years ago, I fell in love with the sweetest woman in the world, and I believe she is your mother.”

Heather tried to stop her breath from hitching, but she could not.

“Your mother, Ciara Blackett, was married to an evil man. A long time before I became a priest, I lived in a cottage not far from her. I fell in love with your mother, and I am ashamed to say we committed a grave sin. You see, Ciara had two children, Loki, who sits in front of you, and a daughter. I believe both children were mine rather than Blackett’s. This daughter was never named, and I was told that both Ciara and her two children died soon after the daughter’s birth. I never met you, but I had seen Loki. I know ‘tis possible that I’m wrong and you are not my daughter, but your eye color tells me you are.”

Heather looked back and forth between the two men in front of her. Could it be true? Her vision flooded with tears as she stared at these men whose eye coloring was identical to hers.

“It must be true,” she whispered. “I’ve not seen another with eyes like ours.”

Father said, “Nay, ‘tis quite rare.”

She turned to Torrian. “You knew?”

“Aye. I suspected many moons ago when I came upon you while I was in the woods with my pups, but you ran away. At the time, I’d just learned that Loki’s sire was alive.”

Loki added, “Do not fault Torrian. When he told me about you, I asked him not to share the truth with you. I think ‘tis something that must be done in person.” Then Loki asked, “Would you mind telling us what you know of your parents? Who raised you? That may help us piece everything together.”

Heather stuttered, but she continued. “I was raised by my grandparents in Perthshire, not far from the Buchan land. They told me my mother died in childbirth. I recall meeting an aunt on a couple of occasions, but she was a distance away.”

“Do you remember aught about a brother?” Loki’s gaze settled on her, unwavering.

Tears misted in her eyes as she thought back to a day when she was young. Her grandmama had told her she looked like her brother. “Aye, on one occasion my grandmother mentioned a brother, but my grandsire yelled at her.” She stared at her hands in her lap. “They never said another word about a brother. I thought she was mistaken. I had no idea…”

Loki said, “I know exactly how you feel, lass. Kenzie brought me to Father Francis the same way.”

Tears spilled over onto her cheeks and she reached for Torrian’s hand. “I recall one other thing.”

Father Francis whispered, “What is it, lass?”

“The only thing they said about my sire was that they hated him. They said my mother was the sweetest creature ever, and my father was cruel.”

“Mayhap we should leave it to you, Heather. I cannot prove you are my daughter, but I can attest that your mother was indeed the sweetest creature ever, and if you believe me to be your sire, I’d be happy to tell you all I know about her.”

Heather sobbed into her hands, then stood and leaned toward Loki. Wrapping her arms around him, she said, “I’m so happy to meet you, brother.” She turned to Father Francis and fell into his arms sobbing. “Will you tell me about my mother someday?”

“Aye, naught would give me more pleasure.”

Loki let out a deep breath. “I believe you’re my sister. My mother hated Blackett. I’ve met him and they had good reason to hate him. He beat her. You were fortunate your…our grandparents took you away. I wish I had known them. You have much to share with me.”

She turned to him with a questioning look. “You did not know them?”

“Blackett left me to die in the woods after our mother died. I suffered a head injury that took my memories of my life before that. Though some memories have returned, I have none of grandparents. I may have known them, but I do not recall. I lived on the roads of Ayr for years until I was adopted by the Grants. Father Francis is my true sire, but Brodie Grant is my adopted sire.”

“Welcome to the family, Heather Preston,” Father Francis said. “I must confess, I am the one who asked Father Rab not to marry you until we met. It was too late for me to marry my son and his wife, but I hoped for the opportunity to be the one to marry you and Torrian, if it proved true that you are my daughter.”

“I would be honored to have you marry us, Father.” Heather laughed and hugged them both. She turned back to gaze at Torrian. “Do you not agree?”

He rubbed his hand in small circles on her back. “Aye. I would be honored, and it pleases me that your brother is my cousin. I hope you are not angry at me for keeping the secret.”

She threw her arms around her husband-to-be. “Nay.” She paused to give him a thoughtful look, taking in the kindness and love she saw in his gaze. “I do not think I could ever get angry with you.”

Loki added, “I heard my sister say that, cousin.” He winked at him. “See if she says the same after you’ve been married for a few moons.”