Page 79 of Unchain the Highlander's Heart

“I love all three of my daughters–and I honor the memory of the fourth,” he said.

“We should visit Aoife–all of us,” Freya said, and Ella nodded.

“Aye, I would like that,” she said, and their father smiled.

“Then we shall go to the grave now, and we shall tell her of all the strange things which have transpired these days gone by. I wonder what she would say if she were here now?” he said, shaking his head.

The four of them made their way from the laird’s parlor and through the great hall, which was filled with clansmen discussing the dramatic events of the day. Despite the late hour, the fire was still kindled, a great log burning brightly, and several empty barrels of whisky lay to one side with no end in sight to the evening’s gathering.

“Laird, what news of the prisoners?” one of the men said, but Murdina’s father only waved his hand dismissively.

“What news dae ye want? They are locked away, and tis’ there they will all stay until tis’ decided what to dae with them,” he replied.

The men loyal to Murdoch and Iver had been banished, driven out onto the moorlands to fend for themselves, and the mood in the castle was celebratory.

“Dae ye really think the Jacobite cause can prevail?” Murdina asked as the four of them crossed the courtyard.

“I daenae know, Murdina. The matter will nae be settled in my lifetime, perhaps nae even in yers, but there is hope, I know that,” he replied.

“How can ye be so sure?” she persisted.

He paused and looked up into the sky. The rain clouds had cleared, and a bright moon shone among the stars.

“Because of people like ye, Murdina. Brave people–ye, Kin, Cillian, yer sisters, even–all of ye want a future free from tyranny, a future in which the likes of Murdoch and Iver are nay more. Tis’ what we have been fightin’ for all these years, and now the need to fight is even greater,” he replied.

The sentries on the gate were surprised when the laird ordered them to be opened, but they did as they were commanded, and Murdina and her sisters followed their father out into the night. Everywhere was still, the silence of the night broken only by the sound of distant waves lapping on the shore of the mull. The path to the kirk was well-trodden, and they walked in single file, keeping silence until they arrived at the grave mound, which was Aoife’s monument.

“I wish she did nae have to rest out here. She should be buried in the churchyard,” Freya said, shaking her head.

“I think she prefers it out here. She always liked to be alone with her thoughts. Think of the times we went searchin’ for her and found her in the dunes all alone,” Murdina replied, and Freya nodded.

“She did nae like it when we found her. We always wanted to play some silly game with her or ask her questions. But I am glad we disturbed her–if only we had known how precious those moments were back then. I would have disturbed her every day,” she said.

Once again, Murdina realized that her two younger sisters were no longer the silly, foolish women she had so often taken them for in the past. They had grown up, and each understood the importance of the memories they held, memories they cherished not as one but as three.

“I think she likes it out here–tis’ where I would wish to be buried, too,” Murdina said, kneeling at the graveside and placing her hands palm down on the earth.

She felt close to her sister at that moment, closer, perhaps, than she had ever been before. Murdina had so often thought of running away, of rebelling against her father, of seeking some new adventure. But those longings were now gone, and she realized her place was there, with her family, with her clan, and with the man she had come to love, the man she now prayed would soon recover.

“And I, too,” their father said.

He had remained silent as they had walked to the graves, but now he kneeled at Murdina’s side and put his hands next to hers.

“I wish there was somethin’ we could dae to bring her back,” Murdina said, and her father put his arm around her.

“We can keep her in our memories. I daenae want to remember her in tragedy, I want to remember her as the smilin’ and free-spirited woman she was. We will nae forget her, and that is why we must honor her memory all the more. She is part of us, just as we are part of her,” he said.

Freya and Ella kneeled, too, and for a few moments, they remained in silence, gazing down at the grave. Murdina had never felt so close to her family before, and tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of what might have been.

“We have suffered too much loss. Tis’ only right we look to the future now,” she said, and the others nodded.

“A happier future,” Ella replied.

“It will nae be easy. There are difficult times ahead for our cause. But if we remain united, we may yet prevail,” their father said, crossing himself as he rose to his feet.

“Come now, Murdina, tis’ gettin’ cold out here,” Freya said, but Murdina shook her head.

“I would linger here a while,” she said, and the others nodded.

They left her kneeling by the graveside, remembering her sister. She could picture her now–her smiling face, the intensity of her gaze, the way she would always ask questions, ever curious about the world around her.

“I hope I am a little like ye,” Murdina thought to herself, and she raised her palm to her lips, kissing it, before touching the grave and rising to her feet.

The night was still, the threatening storm now past, and the moonlight illuminated the kirk and the graves surrounding it. The one carved with the knot symbol stood out, and Murdina made her way over to it, clambering over the wall and reaching out to touch the cold, hard stone. She traced her finger around the symbol, grateful to it for revealing the truth.

“What a strange thing this has been,” she thought to herself, turning to look back at the castle, which seemed now to be at peace.

But there was still one matter to be resolved, and feeling wide awake–despite the exhaustion of the day–Murdina hurried back to the castle, resolved to remain at Kin’s side until his condition was assured. Her father would not stand in the way of her feelings for him, and it seemed now that only one dreadful possibility could prevent the love they had from being realized.

“Ye cannae die, Kin, ye cannae,” she told him, half in prayer, half in hope, longing only for Kin and the future they had promised one another.

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