Page 95 of Bride of the Mad Laird
They had exchanged letters once Lyra was safely returned to Castle Dùn Ara, the place where her friend had spent the days of her childhood, yet very little of their stories had been related.
“But I wish to hear everything.” Davina responded with a laugh. “How was it ye came tae meet me braither Tòrr? When last we spoke ye were beside me at the Priory wall, where nay man would ever venture.”
Lyra couldn’t contain a laugh, even though it was a dire memory. “He saved me life.”
Tòrr chimed in. “That was the first of many times, as I recall.”
Lyra laughed. “Och. I’ve almost lost count of the many times me Mad Laird has saved me life.” She regarded him with glowing eyes. Although they laughed together now at how often he’d been called upon to rescue her, there was still an element of sadness that caught at her heart when she recalled his bravery and the way he had been so ready to sacrifice his life for her sake.
She reached for his hand and squeezed it briefly, an unspoken message passing between them. “Yer braither is a bonny lad indeed,” she told a smiling Davina.
They left the shore, where Tòrr’s crew were unloading their luggage and the cargo the MacNeils were trading – large jars of honey, mead and dried fruits and newly harvested sacks of barley. In exchange, there would be barrels of ale, and woven linen and woolen goods.
Upward they went along the rocky track, Tòrr and Everard guiding their ladies over the rough terrain. The gates of the castle were opened and it was Claray who stepped forward first among the assembly of chambermaids, scullery maids, and serving men, to welcome Davina home again.
Lyra watched, her eyes misting with tears to see the happiness on all their faces. Her own heart swelling with pride and the great joy it was to be reunited with her friend at last. No longer was Davina simply her beloved friend, but she was now her dear sister-in-law.
Claray whisked Davina and Everard away to their prepared bedchamber to wash and change their clothes in preparation for the evening’s feasting. Lyra and Tòrr took the opportunity to do the same.
Once the door of their bedchamber had closed behind them Tòrr seized a smiling Lyra and twirled her in his arms.
“It makes me glad tae see the happiness in yer eyes, me dearest.”
“And I am so grateful tae ye fer making it possible fer me tae meet with Davina once again.”
“Ye will nae only be dear tae each other as friends, but ye are family tae each other now.”
She stood on tiptoe to reach his lips for a tender kiss. “I didnae ken it was possible tae be so happy.”
“Ye’ve earned yer happiness, ye’ve waited so long fer this day and endured so much.”
“Aye.” She grinned, a hint of mischief in her green eyes. “I can hardly wait tae hear Davina’s tale, she also has suffered much.”
Tòrr nodded, a glimmer of regret in his eyes. “There were many sad times fer her, and dangerous ones, as there were fer ye.”
“But now all is well, and I can look forward tae the rest of me life as part of Clan MacKinnon.”
He chuckled, holding her tight, half drunk on her lavender scent. “We’ve yet tae return tae the MacInnes lands and re-acquaint ye wi’ yer people and the Castle Kinlochaline.”
She nodded, weaving her arms about his neck. “There is so much that awaits us.” She issued a heartfelt sigh. “Now, let us prepare fer the feast. There are hours of storytelling awaiting us.”:
Over the following days while Davina and Everard were at Castle Dùn Ara, there were many opportunities for talking.
Lyra was at last able fulfill her dream of walking freely on the clifftops. She and Davina spent many hours strolling together above the sea, the gulls wheeling overhead, as they related the events that had led each of them to the place of happiness they had finally arrived at.
Lyra begged forgiveness for her lies, and Davina readily forgave her, understanding precisely why it had been necessary.
The days passed all too quickly, their friendship renewed and deepening, while their husbands spent time in Tòrr’s study with a good bottle of whisky shared between them, discussing trade and their clans’ alliance.
Now that MacDougall was no more, trade flowed freely between the islands and south to England. They would prosper and the past would slowly lose its power to encroach into their thoughts.
The day of Davina’s and Everard’s departure came all too soon.
Although both Lyra and Davina shed tears as they clung together at the noost, Davina hardly able to tear herself away to board Everard’s birlinn, they were consoled in the knowledge that this was only the first of many visits.
Plans were already afoot for Lyra and Tòrr to travel across to the Isle of Barra and visit Davina and Everard at Castle Kiessimul.
“Dry yer tears, sweet lass.” Tòrr’s tone was tender as they watched the birlinns draw away and head for the open sea. “All sorrow is behind us now and the future shines bright before us.”
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