absence. Their faces were at once familiar, and yet they were still strangers, too, in many ways. “I suppose they're my family, too, now.”
“Them especially. You know they've always loved you.” He laughed low. “Perhaps a bit too much. That day you appeared on the beach, I thought I might have to strangle Gregor. And then there's Bridget. I think my distance from you vexed her most of all.” He sighed, stroking her hand. “I only wish our mothers were here to see it.”
“I think we were still babes when they first wished for this wedding.” She twined her fingers with his. “They were always so close. It's funny to realize how young they were. I remember overhearing them jesting about me and one of the MacAlpin boys.”
As though on cue, Aidan rose. Thinking nobody watched him, he strolled from the crowd.
A pang of sadness pierced her joy. She wondered if that MacAlpin boy would ever find peace. Aidan had vowed to find the man who'd stolen him, but Marjorie couldn't help but wish he'd let go of the past and move on. “I wish he'd give up this quest of his.”
Cormac squeezed her hand. “My brother will never give up.”
“What a shock to see him again.” She knew Cormac had always battled guilt, and she looked for it now on his face. Getting his brother back was cause to rejoice, but she knew, for Cormac, seeing proof of Aidan's misery would mean his guilt redoubled.
Davie scrambled past suddenly, and they both laughed, torn from their reverie. The boy ran straight for Fiona, tangling himself in her skirts.
“Now there's the real shock.” Cormac eyed Fiona. “Wedding the young physician surgeon. Your maid is an enterprising one indeed.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “She's a married woman and no longer my maid.”
“Ah, but such a hasty betrothal.” He nudged her back.
“Mock not, Cormac MacAlpin. I think it's lovely how Fiona and Arch took Davie into their care.” She giggled.
“Though the whole thing was a wee bit on the hurried side.” She had raised a brow at that, but having abandoned her maidenhead in an Aberdeen Inn, she wasn't one to throw stones. “They're simply getting a fast start on their family,” she reasoned.
They watched Fiona squat down to straighten Davie's shirt. “Will you miss her?”
“Fiona?” Marjorie smiled, thinking she would miss her. But she'd quickly grown fond of the wee scullion girl who'd been promoted as her replacement — not to mention how touched and amused she was by the soft spot Cormac had already shown the younger girl. “Actually, I'm happy for her.”
Her eyes went back to Cormac's twin, standing on the periphery. “I wish I were happier for him, though.” The growing shadows emphasized the darkness on Aidan's face. No longer was he the happy-go-lucky scamp of their youth. Something dark lurked deep inside him. She wished he'd abandon this insane wish for retribution. She'd convince him, she decided.
She'd help Aidan, her and Cormac both.
Her husband. The thought made her swoon. Grinning broadly, she snuck her hand around and gave a surreptitious tweak to his backside.
“You're a saucy one.” He laughed. “What was that for?”
She put her hands on her hips, mimicking outrage. “Isn't it about time for the wedding night?”
“Indeed, and not a moment too soon.” He looked around. Gregor was standing up, calling attention to himself. “We just need to get all of them to leave,” Cormac added in a low voice.
Cormac's older brother was shouting for a toast, and Marjorie led her husband closer to the fire to listen.
“There are those of us who never thought we'd see this day. This MacAlpin devil wed.” Gregor was as confident and dashing as ever. The sun was at his back, and it picked golden strands in his light brown hair. Turning to Cormac and Marjorie, he raised his cup. “To my little brother. And to Marjorie, the angel who came between the devil and the deep blue sea.”
Cormac lifted her chin and pressed the sweetest kiss to her, a kiss holding the promise of forever. Joyful tears stung her eyes as she realized that even the wildest of dreams could come true.
Author's Note
Years ago, I stumbled across a mention of chimney sweeps and learned of the dreadful fates suffered by many of these “climbing boys.” Children who'd grown too big would often die, trapped in the narrow passages. Others were simply stolen, transported to faraway lands where they became forced laborers. Some people argued that working in the fresh air and fields was healthier for them anyhow.
This stuck in my craw for years and was the kernel from which this latest series grew. I wondered what would become of a child stolen from his homeland. Who would he be as a man? What of his family? Interestingly, it was the brother, Cormac, who was the first character in my mind. The rest barreled quickly on his heels.
For those of you familiar with my first books, this latest series is a departure for me. Though I will always be as careful as possible with history and fact, here I deal in broader strokes: I don't re-create specific events, and my characters are not based on real figures.
Even the clan I chose can be read as more emblematic than literal. By the fourteenth century, Clan MacAlpin had become a “broken clan.” Even so, they are iconic. Once the kings of Scotland, MacAlpin is an ancient clan, seen today as more a meta-clan, rife with legend. Inextricably linked to Scotland and to nature, the name MacAlpin shares a root with Alba, the old word for Scotland, and also with the word alpine.
That the MacAlpins are both utterly Scottish and yet not associated with events of my chosen era gave me the freedom to explore a story more purely about family in a small corner of Scotland — here, a story of lovers and brothers.
And how about that castle? If you've traveled to Aberdeen, you're likely familiar with Dunnottar, a spectacular sight on the northeastern coast. Interestingly, it was, in fact, linked to the ancient MacAlpin kings. But from there, it's pure fiction, folks.
Although some of my claims were true — Dunnottar was largely destroyed in sieges in the early 1650s — it was still used as a prison and fortress throughout the seventeenth century and didn't fall into ruin until the early eighteenth, well after my story takes place.
I will surely outrage a lot of purists out there, and considered changing Dunnottar's name, but I wanted you to envision with me just the sort of spectacular Scottish ruin I'd pictured for my family. Dodie Smith's I Capture the Castle has always stayed with me, and you're seeing its faint echoes here with my MacAlpins. They are my version of a family of personalities who've installed themselves in a tumbledown fortress.
And I hope you enjoyed the beginning of their story, because there sure are a lot more MacAlpins waiting in the wings.
