Page 68 of Awoken
“Ye forget,” she murmured, gazing up into his eyes, “that I gave up the life of a ‘lady’ when I took the veil. I learned what hard work was at Kilbride, and I learned how to be resourceful. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, or of toil. If it means that I get to spend my life with ye, I welcome it.”
31
True Freedom
BARE GREEN HILLS greeted Leanna and Ross when the birlinn slid into port at Bàgh a’ Chaisteil—Castlebay. On the way, they sailed past a great fortress perched upon a tiny island.
“That’s Kisimul Castle,” the merchant informed them. “The home of Clan MacNeil.”
Leanna gazed up at the castle as they slid by, awed by its high curtain wall. It was late in the day, and the sun had given the grey stone a golden hue. Likewise, the light gilded the rows of fishing vessels that hugged the port beyond. A huddle of white-washed houses clustered around the shore, and when she turned her attention from the castle, Leanna caught a glimpse of silver-sand beaches.
She caught her breath, turning to the merchant. “It’s beautiful.”
The old man chuckled. “Aye, lass … it’s home.”
As they drew near the docks, Leanna inhaled the familiar odor of smoking herrings. Excitement fluttered in the base of her belly then. The isle of Barra was indeed remote and small, yet the idea of making a new life here filled her with joy. She glanced over at Ross and saw that he was smiling, his gaze taking in his surroundings.
Once they’d docked, Ross helped Leanna out of the birlinn, before he assisted the merchant with unloading his supplies.
“We’ll be needing lodgings for the night,” Ross said when he’d heaved out the last crate and set it down upon the dock, “any suggestions?”
The merchant laughed. “There’s only one inn in town … theFisherman’s Rest. Just walk down the waterfront, ye’ll find it quick enough.” The man’s gaze flicked to Leanna then, and his expression grew soft. “I wish ye both all the best for yer new life upon the isle,” he said. “And if ye should ever need assistance, just come down here and ask for ‘auld Alban’.”
“We appreciate that,” Ross replied with a warm smile. “But for now, I just have one final request.” He paused there, the smile turning into a grin as he met Leanna’s eye. “Can ye tell us where we can find ourselves a priest?”
It was a blustery morning when Ross and Leanna walked out of Bàgh a’ Chaisteil. Gulls swooped low, their cries echoing over the hills. Side-by-side, the two travelers slogged their way up the first hill out of the port, heading east.
“Are ye sure there isn’t a road we should be taking?” Leanna puffed when they crested the first hill.
“No path leads to where we’re headed,” Ross replied with a grin. “Our cottage is a morning’s walk across the hills from Bàgh a’ Chaisteil.”
Excitement lanced through Ross as he said those words. They’d been on Barra two days, but already it had started to feel like home. Upon their arrival, he’d made initial enquiries and discovered a small-holding was available that had once belonged to an elderly farmer.
Ross had taken a boat across toKisimul Castle and met with the MacNeil chieftain. He’d given a fresh false identity, calling himself Roger Murray of Atholl. However, MacNeil—a distracted man of middling years—hadn’t shown much curiosity in him. He’d been more interested in gaining a tenant for his land. Ross had paid him a decade’s worth of savings in order to secure the plot. It was nearly everything he had, but it was what he wanted to spend his coin on.
And now, he and his wife were traveling to their new home.
Wife.
Warmth seeped through Ross, and he glanced over at Leanna’s flushed face. Two evenings previous, after their arrival upon the isle, a priest had wed them. He still couldn’t believe his good fortune. Every morning since, he’d woken up and lain there watching Leanna sleep.
He would do everything he could to give his wife a good future.
The small-holding came with a flock of sheep and arable fields that had been left fallow since the tenant’s death. A neighboring farmer had been looking after the land while MacNeil looked for a new tenant, but the chieftain had sent word ahead that they were to expect Roger Murray and his wife, Elsa.
It was a slow journey east, for both Ross and Leanna carried weighty leather packs filled with provisions. However, the cool wind on their faces was refreshing, and the warm sun on their backs reminded them both that summer had arrived. It was a good time to start afresh.
“How many sheep do we have?” Leanna asked, taking Ross’s hand when he helped her across a stream.
“Nearly two-dozen,” he replied, “and a few lambs.”
“And ye know how to look after them?”
Ross could hear the skepticism in her voice, and smiled. He didn’t blame her really; after all, he was a warrior from a high-born family. What did he know of sheep farming?
“Aye … as I told ye … my uncle farmed sheep,” he replied. “He taught me how to raise them, shear them … and butcher them.” He grinned at Leanna then. “Worry not, wife … we won’t starve.”
She huffed. “I wasn’t worried about that. I’m a good enough cook … at Kilbride my bannocks were reputed to be the tastiest.”
