Page 80 of The Rogue's Bride
Turning south, her gaze alighted upon a company of riders approaching over the brow of the nearest hill. Pennants of gold, grey and black, threaded with red fluttered in the breeze.
Caitrin’s heart soared at the sight.
She swiveled on her heel, her gaze meeting Alasdair’s, and saw that he wore a knowing smile.
“Ye invited Da?”
“Aye, as well as Rhona and Taran MacKinnon. They were supposed to arrive yesterday, in time for the feast, but it looks like they were delayed. It matters not, for the boat doesn’t leave for two days.”
Caitrin stilled. “The boat?”
Alasdair stepped close, reaching up with his free hand to cup her cheek. “Ye didn’t think I’d forgotten, did ye? We’re taking a trip to Argyle to see yer sister, and I’ve invited Rhona and Taran to join us.”
Caitrin stared at him a moment, before joy exploded in her breast. She threw herself into his arms, accidentally waking Eoghan who gave a low whimper and snuggled back into Alasdair’s chest.
Kissing Alasdair hard on the lips, Caitrin beamed up at him. “Ye remembered!”
He smiled down at her, his gaze filled with tenderness. “Aye … and I’m a man of my word.”
Epilogue
I Made Ye a Promise
CAITRIN’S FIRST GLIMPSE of Gylen Castle was of a stone tower etched against a grey sky, surrounded by an emerald blanket of green.
Clutching at Rhona’s sleeve, Caitrin pointed east. “Look … there it is!”
The sisters stood at the bow of the large boat that sailed across the choppy waters of the Firth of Lorne. A brisk breeze had whipped up the surface of the water, making the boat roll. Rhona and Caitrin clung together for stability, clutching the railing.
The castle perched upon a rocky outcrop, commanding a view for miles around. Although it formed part of Argyle, Gylen didn’t actually sit upon the mainland. It sat instead upon the rocky Isle of Kerrera, just off the coast.
Caitrin’s mother’s people resided here—Clan MacDougall. Adaira had assured Caitrin in her letters that their uncle had given her and Lachlann a warm welcome, and that they enjoyed their life at Gylen. But even so, Caitrin felt nerves flutter in the pit of her belly.
She hoped that Adaira and Lachlann truly were happy here and that no unpleasant surprises awaited them.
“It’s impressive,” Rhona said, pushing her unruly auburn hair out of her eyes. “I’d thought Adaira must be exaggerating.”
Caitrin smiled. She’d imagined the same, for their sister could be prone to over-enthusiasm. The tower that rose from the grey-stone keep had graceful lines. It was very different to the more bulky and squat silhouettes of Dunvegan and Duntulm.
“Adaira has no idea we’re coming.” Caitrin’s gaze dropped to the approaching rocky shore. A long wooden jetty jutted out to meet them. “I can’t wait to see her face.”
“Hopefully, she’s at home,” Rhona replied. One hand rested on her belly as she spoke; it had started to swell now under her kirtle, visible when the wind pushed her clothing against her form.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Caitrin said with a frown. “But I’m sure our uncle will entertain us until she returns.”
Rhona huffed. “I’ll be glad to get off this boat. It’s rolling makes me queasy.”
Caitrin nodded, casting her sister a sympathetic smile. It had been a rough ride across from Skye. They’d had to weather two rain squalls and a constant wind that had quickened the journey but made it more uncomfortable.
Rhona held her gaze, her storm-grey eyes piercing. “I haven’t had the chance to say much to ye, Caitrin. We never seemed to have a moment alone once we arrived at Duntulm, but I’m truly happy for ye. I look at yer face now, and I see my sister again.”
Caitrin’s mouth quirked. “I feel a different woman,” she admitted. “But I haven’t gone back to who I was before I wed Baltair. That girl is gone forever.”
Rhona’s eyes clouded. “I must admit that I had my doubts. I thought ye mad for wedding MacDonald. I’m happy to see I was wrong.”
“So am I,” Caitrin replied.
Rhona favored her with an arch look. “Taran did tell me all would be well between ye. He’s been insufferably smug to be proved right.”
