He leaned forward and placed his fragment in the pool with the others.
Miranda held her stone tablet in her fist. It was warm against her palm and fingers.
“This gift has also saved lives,” she said. “It has saved folk from hardship, and it has even changed their future. But this gift has also carved a place in my heart. Until we came to this island, I thought this gift was the only thing I had left of my mother. But I realize now that she gave me something far more valuable. She gave me a lost twin brother. She gave me friends who I will cherish always. And she gave me a chance to love. What greater future can anyone hope for?”
Miranda placed her tablet in the water.
Silence fell over the crypt for a moment, and they all looked into the glowing waters.
As the Druid held his staff out over the cauldron, Miranda heard the low moaning rumble of thunder emanating from the Earth and felt the vibration rising up through her.
The fragments began to move slowly toward the center. The pieces turned and met, finding their mating edges and joining into the complete Wheel. The seams fused together like molten metal, and a wave of heat came off the stone relic. The Wheel began to turn, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. The water began to move in a circle around it, increasing in speed until she was looking into a spinning maelstrom of glowing liquid.
And as the water whirled, it spread out, climbing the sides of the cauldron. Still the Wheel remained in the center, suspended in air.
Miranda gasped when she saw him lying there at the bottom of the cauldron—the High King Lugh. He wore gleaming mail, but no helmet, and his silver hair flowed down over his shoulders. But for the golden coins on his eyes, he looked alive to her. In his browned hands he held a great spear with a razor-sharp tip. On his chest, a shallow golden bowl lay. He seemed untouched by the centuries. Looking at him now, she would have sworn he was sleeping.
Then the Wheel began to descend. All eyes followed it as it moved lower, its spinning motion gradually slowing until it settled into the golden bowl.
Power surged, gathering above the High King, and then shot through her like a lightning bolt. Miranda knew from the gasps around the cauldron that they all had felt it. The Wheel had returned to its master.
The water ceased spinning and rushed to the center, covering Lugh and the Wheel. The glow died out. They were done. The gifts had returned to their rightful owner.
Chapter 27
Castle Cornet, Guernsey
Six Weeks Later
“By the Virgin,” Miranda murmured to herself. “What are you doing here?”
Staring out the narrow castle window at the shimmering blue waters of the harbor, she thought about where she was and the journey that brought her here. At the very thought of all she was facing today, Miranda’s blood seemed to drain from her body.
She’d never been to the island of Guernsey. She’d never been outside of Scotland. And yet, here she was on the day of her wedding, in a castle off the coast of Normandy. The island was perfect, Hawk told her; neutral ground where Scots and English could gather without fear of retribution from either side. With the current lull in the fighting at Boulogne, even his father and brothers would be able to attend.
That didn’t make Miranda any less nervous. Thank the Lord, at least her brother Gavin was here to give her away.
Her clan was still in a state of disarray after Evers’s attack. She hadn’t seen them yet, but she was told the old village priest and three of the clan elders had made the journey. Most of the guests had come from Plymouth. Aside from Hawk’s father and brothers, a number of uncles and close friends of the family were here.
Miranda moved to a table and sat in front of the mirror Hawk had sent up to her chambers. She wanted to make a good impression. She wanted to be accepted, for Hawk’s sake, even though she knew that because she was a Scot and lacked family name and fortune, the chances were nil that they would be impressed.
Her looks added nothing, she decided, pouting at her own reflection. She combed her fingers through the short blond hair and pinched her pale cheeks. Her eyes looked huge staring back at her.
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Innes said softly, moving behind her. “Not one of them.”
Miranda glanced up in the mirror, grateful for the support. Her palms were sweating, and she knew if she didn’t calm herself, sheer panic would follow.
“No doubts. No fears,” said Innes. “This day belongs to two people only. You and Hawk.”
Her friend’s words and tone were soothing. Miranda met Innes’s gaze. “You know the havoc that is churning inside of me. Are you certain you don’t have any of your gift left?”
“I need no magic to know love when I see it,” she said, smiling. “Your face says it all.”
“Hawk is meeting with his father right now. What happens if they try to talk him out of this marriage?”
“Do you really think there’s any chance of that?” Kenna asked, joining them.
Miranda considered her time with him these past weeks. She’d been loved and cherished. Perhaps it was because of all they’d been through, but he treated her as an equal and a partner. For life, he’d told her, and this ceremony was only for the sake of ritual.
“You’re right,” she finally admitted, to herself and her two new friends. “Besides, I’ve already threatened that if he ever tries to leave me behind, I’ll stow away on his ship, and there won’t be anyone to save his hide when he ‘accidentally’ falls overboard.”
Innes and Kenna laughed.
Miranda thought about the journey back aboard the Peregrine. The ship that brought Evers to the island had vanished. Hawk said nothing about it, but she had a feeling the west coast of England and Scotland might be somewhat inhospitable for the Welsh smuggler Flint for quite some time.
Hawk’s crew had been greatly shocked to learn that they’d had a woman living amongst them. Too many apologies followed, although none were necessary. The cook especially, knowing she was to be the captain’s bride, insisted on apologizing to her nonetheless, and in the most courteous language imaginable. She didn’t know the scurvy rascal had it in him, and told him so, to much laughter all around.
Miranda knew she’d have no trouble living on a ship full of men. Perhaps the years of traveling with Muirne had prepared her, for she’d learned early to be independent, taking care of herself and her mother.
She sighed as a group of serving women streamed in with everything needed to prepare her for the ceremony.
Kenna took her by the hand. “Come,” she said. “It’s time.”
Miranda’s two friends led her to the other end of the room where the lady’s maids waited to dress her.
Miranda gasped at the sight of the dress lying on the bed. It was of white silk and embroidered cloth of gold. There had been plenty of measuring and fitting and banter between a handful of seamstresses, but she hadn’t seen the completed wedding gown until now.
“Magnificent!” she cried, turning to her friends. “How did this come together?”
“We made a few suggestions,” said Innes.
“And oversaw some of the assembly and stitching,” said Kenna.
“But it was your husband—future husband—who insisted that you have only the finest.”
“And we agreed that it should be so.”
Miranda looked with gratitude at Innes and Kenna, two women she’d come to love as sisters. She knew the rest of the day would be hectic. Hawk had already told her that they would be leaving on the first tide after the ceremony. He was stealing her away for a journey, and she was not allowed to ask any questions about it.
She asked the dressers to wait. Taking Kenna and Innes’s hands, she pulled them across the room. “It’s time you knew something that I saw when I first met you both on the island.”
“I don’t think I want to know, if it’s bad,” Innes said. “Unless there’s still time to change it.”
“Aye,” Kenna agreed. “I’ll no
t live my life in fear.”
Miranda smiled. She had their attention. “Kenna, you might know this already, but you are carrying a child. A strapping, healthy son.”
Kenna threw her arms around each of them and laughed. “To be honest, I knew I was expecting, and Alexander knows, too. That’s why the sweet ogre treats me like a crystal goblet these days. I just didn’t want to mention it until—”
Innes cut Kenna off, hugging her and congratulating her. Miranda knew why the younger woman had kept her news to herself. Innes, at twenty-eight years old, feared she was too old to become a mother.
“And you, my friend,” Miranda started, taking Innes’s hand again. “I had the strangest vision. You and Conall were playing on the floor by a fire with two bairns that looked to be twins—a boy and a girl—and a wolf was sitting there, eyeing you all as if you belonged to him!”
Tears rushed into Innes’s eyes that she tried unsuccessfully to blink away.
Miranda shook her head. “But I can’t understand why I would see a wolf.”
Kenna smiled. “I know it’s hard to believe, but this wee creature does have a wolf. I’ll tell you the story while you’re being dressed for the wedding.”
Rob never intended to give his father a chance to object.
He was not asking for William Hawkins’s permission to marry Miranda. His decision was carved in stone.
Standing on the ramparts of the castle, Rob looked out at the ships in the harbor and told his father a story of his own invention of how Miranda’s brother, lost at sea as a child, had been miraculously raised by a neighboring clan and then just recently restored to his family. He told him what Gavin had plans to do as the new laird of Tarbert Castle. Then Rob informed him in detail about the wanton destruction wrought by Evers.
“War does terrible things to a man’s mind,” Hawkins said.
Rob nodded, thinking that desire for riches could do equally terrible things. But he wasn’t going to bring that up on the day of his wedding. Although he would condemn his father’s actions forever, he had seen the Isle of the Dead and he knew how men’s schemes could be cut short.
“And when am I to meet your new bride?” Hawkins asked.
“After the ceremony.” Rob was not chancing Hawkins saying anything to Miranda that might cast a shadow over the day for her.
“I’d like you to bring your wife back to Plymouth after the wedding. I’ll arrange for your own residence, somewhere near us. It’s best for families to remain close. When this bloody war with France is over, we can—”
“I thank you for your generosity, sir,” Rob interrupted. “But Miranda is Scottish, and I believe she’ll fare much better living near her own people. She’s just been reunited with her twin brother, don’t forget.”
Rob saw no need for William Hawkins to know that he and Miranda planned to sail together. He wouldn’t expose her to danger, of course, though he knew she could handle whatever adventure came their way. But when the time came that they were ready to start a family, Rob had decided to insist that they live in Scotland. He would not make the same mistake his father had made. He wouldn’t put Miranda in the same situation his own mother had faced.
“I’m sure she’s a fine woman,” Hawkins began. “She’s not an Englishwoman—”
“Nay,” Rob replied curtly. “That she is not.”
“But I’m happy for you.”
“Are you?” he said, somewhat taken aback.
“Aye,” Hawkins continued. “I know what it’s like to love a Scottish woman.”
The confession was surprising and touched Rob more than he would have expected.
“I know you are not asking for it, son. But you have my blessing. Oh, I nearly forgot. The king sends his regards on your marriage,” William Hawkins reached into a satchel and took out a scroll. “And he sends this, and wishes you good hunting.”
Rob gazed at the seal depicting King Henry mounted in full armor with his hound running alongside. The letter of marque.
Miranda didn’t think her brother Gavin even recognized her at first when she joined him outside of her chambers. His serious face immediately broke into a smile.
“Your dress, Miranda. Those jewels. You look like a princess.”
“Well, don’t get too accustomed to it. I’m still your sister. And all of this is only for a day.”
There seemed to be no end to Hawk’s generosity in his gifts to her. The wedding dress was extravagant enough, but there had been much more. Jeweled combs with gold-lace filigree, a brooch and a matching necklace that were more valuable than anything she’d seen in her lifetime. He had sent all of it up to her.
“You are truly beautiful, sister,” Gavin told her. “There is a goodness in you that is genuine and shines through, whether you wear the clothes of a sailor or the gown of a queen. And Hawk sees it.”
Miranda was brimming with emotion. To find her brother, to have him here with her as she entered the next chapter of her life with the man she loved, was the greatest of blessings.
They started across the courtyard toward the chapel. Miranda thought of her mother and how proud she would have been to see her two offspring today. She and Gavin were only standing here now because of the vision of a loving woman who had died fighting to save her children. Miranda dashed away a tear.
Clan MacDonnell had immediately welcomed Gavin. He was a reminder of Muirne in his intelligence and kindness. He was the healer and leader the people needed now more than ever. Miranda knew her brother still had a long road ahead with his plans to restore their clan to independence, but he was clearly ready for the challenge.
Hawk was waiting for them by the chapel steps, and Gavin placed her hand into his.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” Hawk said. “And you’re mine.”
She looked up at the man who was soon to be her husband. He took her breath away.
Over a pure white silk shirt with a high collar, Hawk wore a black jerkin made of supple leather, complete with horizontal slashes according to the latest German style. His sleeves were of black embroidered velvet that puffed out handsomely. Over his black hose, he wore boots that came above the knee, made of the finest black leather she’d ever seen. The hilt of his sword gleamed, and the jewels on the handle of his dagger sparkled in the sunlight.
But nothing meant more to her than the look of love in his eyes.
“How did it go with your father?” she asked after Gavin went into the chapel.
“Fine,” he said. “But what is most important, he brought the letter of marque from the king. We’re now free.”
“I’m so happy for you, love.”
“I’m happy for both of us,” he replied, kissing her softly.
In the chapel, the blades of light from the window slits cut brightly through swirling clouds of incense, bathing the interior with a golden glow.
As Miranda and Hawk made their way in, men and women dressed in fine attire formed an aisle for them. She acknowledged with a smile those who had come from Tarbert Castle. Her gaze then moved to Kenna, standing with Alexander’s arm wrapped protectively around her. Next to them, she saw Conall Sinclair, the Earl of Caithness, who was bringing Innes’s hand to his lips and kissing it as she stabbed away a tear.
Miranda looked across at the contingent from Plymouth. She’d seen Hawk’s father and brothers from her chamber windows when they arrived.
When they reached the priest and his acolytes, Gavin took his place near her. She touched his hand and then turned to her beloved.
Hawk smiled at her and the warmth of his love flowed through her. This was the man her mother saw in her vision. The man she would build her future with. He was the man dreams were made of. And he belonged to her.
As the priest began the ceremony, Miranda glanced up at the large painting that graced the wall above the altar.
It was a picture of the Virgin Mary, holding two bairns in her arms. In the background, a ship rode at anchor in a calm harbor. But that wa
s not what filled Miranda with such peace.
It was the face of the saintly mother—the face of her own loving mother—smiling down happily on them all.
Author’s Note
We hope you’ve enjoyed this final book in our Scottish Relic Trilogy, based loosely on a little known play, The Tempest, by a forgotten Elizabethan playwright named William Shakespeare.
For those who have been following us over the years, you may remember Gillie the Faerie Borne from The Firebrand. For those who are new to our stories, please look up the ‘family tree’ we’ve posted on our website. We never seem to be able to let our characters go.
As in Shakespeare’s play, our characters needed to leave their magic behind on the island, but someone else may show up soon to reclaim it. Who knows?
Finally, we need a favor. If you enjoyed this book, please leave us a review of Tempest in the Highlands . . . and recommend it to your friends. You the reader have the power to make or break this book. We greatly appreciate your support!
All the best!
You can contact us at:
www.MayMcGoldrick.com
Acknowledgments
We’d like to acknowledge our tremendously insightful editor, Elizabeth Poteet, and her team. This novel would not be what it is without her. With over twenty years of writing together and dozens of published novels, we’re still learning. Thank you!
About the Author(s)
Tempest in the Highlands (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) Page 20
