Five years later

Wal’s parents had died two winters after his return to the village, but not before getting to meet their grandchildren. Three years had passed since then, and the twins – Abigail and Ruaridh – had grown hale and hearty. Wal was eternally proud of them. Both sported his red hair and their mother’s violet eyes, and at the age of four, they were already well-spoken and hard workers.

Now, though, they clung to their parent’s hands as they approached the keep that would be their new home. Wal had received word a week ago that the Laird had died, and the clan was his. He had been reluctant to leave his peaceful life on the farm, but Yvaine’s gentle encouragement had made him realize that it was time. So he sold the farm and moved the family to the castle town of Clan McEwen, where their new lives would begin.

Scott and Mirren waited for them in the keep, taking a break from the farm to welcome them to their new home. Scott’s daughter was excited to see the twins, and the children all ran off ahead to explore the castle, leaving the four adults alone.

“It’s strange to be back here,” Wal admitted, looking around the place. “Especially knowing that me faither is deid.”

“We should have a party,” Mirren suggested. “To brighten this place up a bit and celebrate the Laird and the Lady coming home.”

And so that was what happened. That very evening, a feast was thrown. Laird and Lady McEwen sat happily at the top of the table, holding hands and just as in love as they had been five years before. Everyone welcomed them back to the clan as though they’d never left, and Wal knew that he’d made the right choice in coming here.

“I thought they’d hold me responsible for me faither’s choices,” Yvaine admitted to him. “I’m glad they still consider me part of their family.”

“They’re all our family,” Wal reminded her. “And they’re our responsibility now. It’s time we did our best.”

There were dancing and drinking, and Wal began to feel very happy about everything. His story was closed, he knew, and a new one was opening where he and Yvaine ruled the clan together. He’d been nervous, to begin with, but now he was more than ready for it.

Approaching the end of the night, a young woman approached them. She was maybe two-and-twenty, certainly no older than Yvaine had been when they first met. Many people had come to welcome them or congratulate them throughout the day, so Wal was not surprised and greeted the young lady with a smile.

“I dinnae recognize ye,” Yvaine told the girl pleasantly. “Are ye new to the clan?”

“Aye, ye could say that,” the girl said. Wal noticed with a frown that she was too thin, her dark hair a little matted. He made a mental note to ensure that she was well-fed before she left this keep.

“Well, what’s yer name?” Yvaine asked her. “Welcome to Clan McEwen.”

“Thank ye, Me Lady,” she said, curtseying a little. She’d obviously grown up poor, but she was dressed well, and she was well-spoken. “But in truth, I came here to meet Laird McEwen.”

Yvaine looked at her with curiosity, then glanced at Wal. He shrugged – he had no idea who she was any more than she did. “What’s yer name?” he asked. “Do we ken each other?”

The girl – the woman, really, but she was just so slight that Wal kept forgetting – shook her head. “Nay, Me Laird,” she said courteously. “Me name is Runa.”

A Norse-Scots name. It means secret, not so different from me. What secret does this lass hide?

“Hail, Runa,” he said. “Me name is Wal, and this is Yvaine.”

“I ken who ye are,” Runa said. “May I tell ye a story?”

Wal frowned but nodded, examining the girl. She was very pretty, with deep blue eyes and long black hair. Her skin was tanned and freckled; she was obviously used to work. With a little cleaning up, she could look as fine as any court lady. He suddenly, inexplicably, felt very protective of her. “Tell yer story,” he said.

She looked around nervously. “Have ye got anywhere private we can go?”

Wal looked at Yvaine, but he could see the curiosity burning in her violet eyes. She didn’t say anything, but he could hear her speak anyway and how she thought they should just see what this girl had to say.

***

Wal and Yvaine led Runa to the little antechamber just outside the room where the children lay asleep. It was the quietest place in the castle, and Wal truly didn’t sense any threat from her. Besides, she wouldn’t actually be near the children – and one false move from her and guards would be here in a moment.

Runa sat down on the chair they offered and then began to speak. She didn’t meet their eyes, obviously having spent a long time preparing this speech. “Me name is Runa like I told ye. Me mother was a maid who used to work in this castle before she was chased out of the clan by General Torquil.”

Yvaine gasped, going pale. “Me Faither…” she said. “I dinnae…why would he do such a thing?”

“As far as I ken, he led everyone else to believe that she was deid,” Runa said. “And then told her to leave under threat of her bairn’s life.”

“Yers?” Wal asked, swallowing. Torquil must have been more of a monster than he ever thought.

“Nae, her first child,” Runa replied. “He was yer faither, Me Lady?”

“He was. But he betrayed the clan. And he betrayed me,” Yvaine told her. “He’s been dead many years now.”

“Good,” Runa said darkly. “Anyway, me mither raised me alone. She took jobs wherever she could, but it was always just her and me. Every man she met treated her badly, so she eventually gave up on all of them. She worked as a maid sometimes, and I’d work with her too. We’d get farm work. Sometimes we even sold…”

She trailed off, looking embarrassed, but Wal was filled with horror. He could very well guess what a young, beautiful woman and her single mother had sold to keep food on the table.

Nae woman should ever be driven to desperation, such as that.

“And me faither did this to ye?” Yvaine asked in horror. “Miss Runa, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything that I can do for ye, or for yer mither…”

“Me mither died a month ago,” Runa said with a sad smile. Wal opened his mouth, but Runa shook her head. “Dinnae. I dinnae need the sympathy. She was sick for a long time.”

Despite what she was saying, there were very obvious tears in her eyes. Wal respected her request for silence, though, and did not push.

“What do ye need from us?” Yvaine asked her again. “A job? A home?”

“Nay,” Runa said, and pride glistened in her eyes. “I can look after meself. But I had to come. Me mither never stopped loving the faither of her first child or hoping that she and the bairn would be reunited someday. And then, not long ago, we received word that the faither had died. Mither was already very, very sick by then, and she kent that she’d never meet her son, but she begged me to travel here in her place.”

Wal stared at her, and Yvaine gasped. They both could tell what she was about to say, and both could scarcely believe it.

“Ye see,” Runa explained. “I didnae come here to get apologies from Torquil’s kin. I came here to meet ye, Wal.”

“Me,” Wal repeated, spellbound by her words.

Is it true? Was she alive all this time? Did Torquil take that from me?

“Aye, ye,” Runa agreed. She looked up, her blue eyes meeting his, and said, “I came here to keep me promise to me Mam. For, Me Laird, I think I may be yer sister.”

If you haven’t already, please leave your review on Amazon