“’Tis true,” Jaimie offered. “We had to re-read it many times.”
“I helped with the hard words,” Callan offered.
At that, Rory began to chuckle. “I ken ye must be inundated with cousins, but I have two I want ye to meet. My niece Charlotte and nephew Tavish were here for Hogmany. They’re a bit younger than ye, but I’ll see if I can talk their father into sending them for another visit when ye’re here one day.”
Jaimie grinned. “Or ye can all return to Mackenzie lands for another visit with us.” Citrine and Rory had traveled there last autumn. “Because Lewes is much closer to our home than yours!”
Nodding, Rory hummed thoughtfully. “’Tis a good idea. I did promise a visit home this summer, but we were planning to go by birlinn…”
He glanced across the hall to where his friend Bartholomew was playing with Merrick’s brood, and Citrine knew her husband was remembering his time at sea.
A year ago, he’d promised to give up pirating, and he had. More than a few stories had risen in the Western Isles about the Black Banner’s disappearance, each more fantastic than the last. She suspected Rory had something to do with that, spreading rumors and fantastical tales whenever possible.
But she knew her husband missed sailing. They were lucky enough not to have to fully accept leadership yet, although Rory often helped train the men with Gregor, who’d been made commander after Dougal’s death. The two men worked well together; Gregor had the experience, and Rory had the leadership skills necessary to win the warriors to his way of thinking.
It was those same skills which had made him such a successful captain. Whenever they could, Rory and Citrine would sneak away to the coast, to sail in one of the small fishing boats, or take longer journeys down the coast in his birlinn, now that some of his crew had settled here in Sinclair lands.
She knew it wasn’t the same for him, but it wasn’t bad. Just different. Now he had a greater level of responsibility and even more respect. His days might sometimes be filled with mediating petty squabbles, but hers were as well, and the best part of the day was the hours they spent wrapped in one another’s arms, talking about their tasks and planning for their future.
The time would come, not too far in the future, when Da would step down, leaving the Sinclairs in Citrine and Rory’s hands.
After all, she was the bravest and most clever of the Sinclair warriors, was she not?
The reminder put a smile on her face, and her hand rose to the brooch pinned to the plaid which covered her heart. Her father, husband, and sisters all agreed that she should have the honor of wearing the Sinclair jewels as a symbol of her skill and responsibility. And every single time she pinned it on, she felt a burst of loyalty, of connection to the past.
Mayhap there was something a bit magical to the thing. This was the Highlands, after all.
Jaimie interrupted her musing when he took his nephew’s hand. “Have ye met Willie, Callan? He’s Merrick’s oldest son, visiting from his fostering. I met him yesterday, a fine young man.”
Callan nodded eagerly as his uncle pulled him away, stopping to wave to their little group. Their departure reminded Citrine of the celebration, and Agata’s happy news.
“I’m so pleased for ye, sister,” she murmured, her arm still around Rory. “Ye four will be verra happy.”
“Well, ’tis still a way off. Possibly after Hogmany, even,” Agata said with a pleased smile.
“Have ye told Da and the others?”
Her older sister shook her head. “No’ yet. I didnae want to interrupt this celebration with my news.” Before Citrine could tell her the news was cause for celebration, Agata hurried on. “Speaking of which, look who’s finally coming over. Jaimie will be so jealous!”
Pearl was bustling toward them, and as she reached them, Agata took baby Mala from her arms with a coo.
“Come to Aunt Agata, my wee Jewel. Are ye no’ the most beautiful bairn ever?”
Pearl’s laugh sounded a little weak, and Citrine wondered if the new mother was overdoing things. Mala was only a few months old, but Pearl had been running about planning this celebration, in addition to her regular duties. Still, their youngest sister seemed happy.
“I ken she’s the most beautiful bairn ever, but I ken that about all my nieces and nephews, too. Has anyone seen Saffy and wee Gavin yet?”
Citrine glanced at her husband, but he shook his head. “No’ since they arrived with that lot earlier today,” Rory said with a nod. “I cannae imagine how they manage to keep their brood in control…they all seem like little devils!”
Agata laughed, tweaking the babe’s nose to elicit a gurgle. “’Tis because their father is the very devil himself, aye, Pearl?” She winked.
Pearl rolled her eyes and planted her fists on her hips. “I’ve apologized for getting out of that marriage contract a half dozen times since Saffy married the man! How was I supposed to ken all the horrible things they said about him were no’ true?”
“Aye, and if ye had married the Sutherland Devil,” Citrine pointed out, “then ye wouldnae have the fine husband ye do have.”
“Exactly,” Pearl said with a proud nod.
“Where is Gregor, anyhow?” Agata asked.
Rory shifted his weight as if not sure how much to say. “He’s with Duncan, as usual. Duncan had an…errand.”
Pearl and Citrine exchanged an excited glance, knowing what that meant. Over the last year, Citrine had taken her younger sister to see their mother a few times. The visits were always difficult, slightly awkward. The hermit who lived in the grotto, awaiting death as her body slowly failed, was not the mother they remembered. She was a woman obsessed with the past, with stories, and with reading. Visiting her was often a case of sitting quietly while she regaled them with tales from Sinclair history.
Agata and Saffy had not yet met the woman, although they knew of her existence. Citrine had told them both last year, during her autumn visits, and both had gone through disbelief, joy, and confusion as she’d explained. Soon, they’d get to meet Mala Sinclair themselves, and judge for themselves if their mother had returned from the dead, or if she was a stranger to them.
Soon, and mayhap sooner, if Gregor and Duncan’s errand was successful.
“There they are!” Pearl’s breath burst out of her with a relieved sigh, and Citrine’s gaze flew to the outer doors. But her younger sister was waving toward the stairs, where Merrick was holding out his hand to help Saffy step down. “Saffy!” she called, waving harder.
Citrine’s twin might’ve only recently given birth, but she fairly flew across the hall to embrace Agata and Pearl. She hugged Citrine as well, but as the twins had spent the better half of the day ensconced in their old room, giggling like girls once again, their embrace was faster.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see ye all. Can ye believe we’re all together once more?”
Agata smiled and moved a yawning Mala to her other shoulder. “I was saying that to Citrine here. It seems like it took forever!”
“I ken we’ll visit one another, but let us make this a tradition.” Pearl’s pale eyes sparkled with excitement. “Each year at midsummer, we should gather here to celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?” Rory asked with a wry grin.
Citrine elbowed him. “Everything.”
They were all chuckling when Merrick finally joined them, a scowl on his lips and a baby in his arms.
Pearl was already reaching for her nephew, wee Gavin, the other reason they’d gathered this summer. “Come here, ye wee strong warrior. I heard ye gave yer mother quite the time in the birthing chamber.”
Saffy rolled her eyes. “Aye, he was as stubborn as his namesake. ’Tis why we’re late. The dear refused to suckle.”
“I cannae imagine that,” Rory murmured against Citrine’s ear, forcing her to lift her fingers to hide her smirk.
Saffy’s birth experience had been difficult, and she’d written her twin after Gavin’s arrival to tell how scared she’d
been. Merrick, who had nine bairns already, had insisted on being present for the birth of this one, his heir.
Apparently, the Sutherland Devil, the most feared man in the Highlands, had almost fainted in the birthing chamber.
“Is that why yer da is frowning so fiercely, eh, ye precious angel?” Pearl cooed at her nephew, smirking as she glanced at Merrick from the corner of her eye.
Merrick, who’d folded his arms across his chest once he’d been relieved of his son, was now scowling across the hall. He didn’t answer, but Saffy tucked her hand into his elbow and leaned her cheek against his upper arm.
“Nay, he always frowns like this when he gets good news. Aye, husband?”
If anything, Merrick’s frown deepened, and he grunted impatiently. Beaming, Saffy turned to her sisters and Rory.
“Merrick’s a wee irritated, ye see, because Mary just gave us some delightful news. We’re—” She broke off, chuckling, and Merrick rolled his eyes again. Regaining her composure, Saffy tried to nod seriously, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her. “We’re going to become grandparents!”
When Pearl burst out laughing, Saffy and Citrine joined in. Rory blurted, “What?” as Agata’s face lit up.
“Mary and Andrew are having a bairn? Oh, how wonderful!”
“’Tisnae wonderful,” Merrick growled. “I’m only two-score. Too young to be a grandda. And ye,” he pointed sternly at his wife, “are far too beautiful to be married to a grandda.”
Laughing, Saffy captured his hand in hers and brought it to her lips. “I happen to like being married to a grandda, assuming it’s ye.”
With a huff, Merrick pulled her into his embrace. “It just feels odd, ye ken?”
“I do, but ye started early, husband.” Saffy smiled up at him. “Willie might be thinking about marriage soon as well. Have ye considered that?”
“Aye,” Merrick growled, “but no’ for a few years. I made him swear.” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to start thinking about marriage contracts for Adelaide and the other lassies soon.”
Citrine chuckled. “I’ve met Maggie. Whoever ye talk into marrying that one will have their work cut out for them.”
Rory was nodding. “And wee Eva. She’s young yet, but if ye’re smart, ye willnae let her spend much time with Citrine.” When she elbowed him, he dropped a kiss to her forehead. “A family can only take so many firebrands.”
Firebrand. He still called her that, although they’d been married for almost a year.
And each time he did, a hint of pride in his voice.
She stretched up on her toes. “I love ye,” she whispered in his ear.
The way he squeezed her back, she knew he understood.
“Oh!” Pearl’s surprised exclamation had everyone turning to the door.
Gregor had just stepped through, his eyes scanning the crowd until his gaze rested on Pearl. When he gave her a slight nod, she turned and thrust baby Gavin back into his father’s arms.
“Excuse me,” she said, already hurrying toward her husband.
Then both Agata and Saffy sucked in a breath when they saw who followed their stoic brother-in-law.
Duncan Sinclair, laird of the clan, held the door open for a black-robed figure, bowing solicitously, but careful not to touch her.
Citrine and Rory exchanged a glance.
Mother.
“Is that…?” Agata’s whispered question trailed off as Da led the hooded and robed stranger to a chair along the wall, ignoring the murmurs around them.
The woman sank into the seat, as if exhausted from the effort it had taken to travel to the keep, and Da straightened. From across the room, his eyes met Citrine, and he nodded just slightly.
It had been a struggle to convince Mother to attend today’s celebration. She was determined to wall herself up from the outside world, but the promise of a glimpse of her grandchildren had been the incentive she needed.
How gut-wrenching it must be, to refuse to embrace her daughters, or touch their babies. But Citrine knew their mother had done it for their own safety, the way she’d left them years ago to die alone.
But mayhap, now, she wouldnae be.
Citrine cleared her throat. “Aye,” she managed in a hoarse whisper.
In a daze, Saffy reached out and fumbled for Citrine’s hand, finally clasping it in a tight grip. “I’m nervous,” she admitted.
Agata took a deep breath, still patting wee Mala’s bottom. “I’m ready. Do ye think she might want to meet the wee jewel named for her?”
“No’ yet.” Citrine reached for the sleeping baby, still a little awkward with holding an infant. “For now, let us meet her together.”
Saffy and Agata nodded, already moving toward their parents. Rory snagged Citrine’s hand.
When she turned to him in confusion, he took the baby from her arms, settling her against his shoulder in a mirror of Merrick’s pose. Mayhap he had experience with his niece Charlotte.
Using his hold on her hand, he tugged her closer and dropped his forehead to hers.
“One glows gold in the fire’s light,” he murmured.
The words never failed to make her smile. It was their way of reminding one another of everything they’d overcome, and that they were stronger together.
“Jewels in the hearthstone’s view,” she whispered in return.
“Ye are my jewel, Citrine. Never forget that.”
She smiled, already feeling stronger. “And ye are my hearthstone. Wherever ye are, ’tis home for me.”
“Thank ye for giving me a home, wife. A place to belong. Here in Sinclair lands, and…”
She pressed a kiss to his lips. “And in my heart?”
“Aye,” came his rough whisper. “Now go, my love.”
Taking a deep breath, Citrine straightened and nodded to her husband. Then she turned and hurried across the hall.
She stepped up beside Saffy, who was still clutching Agata’s hand tightly. Pearl moved to her other side, and soon all four of them were holding each other.
Citrine glanced one way, then the other. “Are ye ready?” she whispered.
Saffy’s nod was hesitant, Agata’s certain, and Pearl was smiling. “Aye,” she breathed.
“Well, then.” Citrine took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Tugging her sisters’ hands, she offered them a smile of her own. “Let me introduce ye to yer mother.”
And stepping forward, the four Sinclair Jewels met their future.
The Sinclair Jewels Series
Book 1 – The Sinclair Hound
Book 2 – The Mackenzie Regent
Book 3 – The Sutherland Devil
Book 4 – The MacLeod Pirate
Author’s Note
On Historical Accuracy
First of all, thank you so much for reading to the end of The Sinclair Jewels series! I hope you love this family as much as I do!
In earlier Notes, I’ve mentioned the inaccuracy of my heroes wearing kilts (tough patootie, they’re hot!) and the consistent clan mottos/war cries/crests. The crest Saffy and Merrick found at the end of The Sutherland Devil belongs to the MacLeods of Lewes, which is how the sisters know they need to go there to find another stone (in this case, the pearl).
However, the MacLeods of Lewes were still a brand-new clan when this story takes place, and you’ll just have to forgive the inaccuracies.
The MacLeods are said to have descended from Leod, son of Olaf the Black, who was King of the Isles. In fact, when this story takes place, the Western Isles (including Lewis and Harris, which are technically one island) had just recently joined Scotland. For generations they were ruled by their own king and the Kingdom of the Isles was very powerful.
Leod’s two sons became the progenitors of the two branches of the families; Tormod founded the MacLeods of Dunvegan and Harris (made famous in fairy flag folklore) and Torquil founded the MacLeods of Lewes/Lewis.
I’ve been purposefully vague on who exactly Rory’s father is, but let’s assu
me, since it’s so early in the MacLeods of Lewes’ history, that he’s a close relative of Leod himself! His oldest brother Tormund is named for their uncle (or great-uncle?), and you’ll definitely be meeting him again (see below).
A quick note on Rory’s name: You’ve likely seen the name Ruaidhrí/Ruairi before, often spelled as “Rory”. Clan Ruaidhrí was powerful in the Western Isles, and closely connected with the MacLeods. I wanted to acknowledge that briefly by giving my hero the name of a neighboring clan… You know, when he’s not busy being called the Black Banner!
Next up: leprosy. This disease is bacteria-borne and has been around for millennia. Seriously. It’s actually very hard to spread, but the bacteria does spread by touch, specifically bodily fluids like mucus. The vast majority of people who come in contact with the bacteria never develop the disease, but it’s hard to deny the medieval mindset of contact=contagion.
Mala Sinclair’s self-imposed exile is harsh, and likely unnecessary, but effective. Even during the Medieval period, not everyone considered isolation the best solution for those afflicted by leprosy…but “Leper Houses” were run by the Church for just that reason.
After so many years of virtual isolation, it’s hard to imagine Mala’s mind hasn’t been affected, and I tried to convey that. I’m not sure how—if at all—her relationship with her daughters will grow. You’ll have to use your own imaginations about that!
Finally, I know you’re curious about all the bairns mentioned in this series. Do you want to see more of them? You’re in luck! Remember wee Charlotte, who was recreating the Battle of Largs (1263; an inconclusive battle in the failed Norwegian attempt to re-take Scotland) with her uncle’s wooden ships?
Well, Charlotte and her brother Tav appear in The Bruce’s Pirate. If you’re dying to know if Tavish grows up to accomplish his dream and take over as the Black Banner…well, you’ll have to read to find out! But I guarantee you’ve never read a heroine quite like Charlotte MacLeod; she does, indeed, grow up to be someone great (even greater than a pirate!) who makes her clan proud!
The MacLeod Pirate Page 17
