“I liked my beard.” He gritted his teeth, covered her hands with his then couldn’t help but smile at his dearest kin. His sister, now a newlywed with a husband from this time who adored her beyond all reason, lived both here in the future and in the past. “Where’s Alec?”
“My mate is training in the yard, as I too should be.” Annella had grown up fighting right alongside him and Father, all three of them warriors through and through. In her black leather pants, billowy-sleeved blue tunic and sword gleaming at her hip, she popped a kiss on his forehead. “I shall miss you while you’re gone. I expect you to find your mate and return with her, with all haste.”
“I shall do exactly that, and at least I’m leaving you in the best of hands with Alec.” He slid off the bed, his kilt brushing his knees as he clasped Tavish’s forearm. “I thank you for all you’ve done. ’Tis a miracle you’ve worked for me.”
“You’re most welcome. You’re free to leave whenever you please and track down your chosen one. There’s no need for more checkups.” Tavish grasped his forearm in return. “I wish you a safe journey and a most enjoyable hunt.”
“I shall never cease chasing my chosen one, no matter how far she attempts to roam from me.” He pulled on his billowy black tunic, tucked the hem under the belted waist of the MacKenzie tartan Annella had purchased for him from a store in the village. He grunted. Donning the enemy’s colors grated on him, but he’d need to wear this plaid or else be discovered for who he truly was. At least he had a viable reason for arriving dressed as a MacKenzie warrior at Carron Castle. During his imprisonment, he’d learnt Coll was away on a mission to secure more warriors to his and Duncan’s cause and he intended to offer his sword arm once he arrived. Men had been arriving daily at the keep during his imprisonment. Aye, he’d do whatever it took to claim Kyla, even pose as a MacKenzie.
“You’re a Matheson, no matter what kilt you wear.” Annella scooped his sword from the end of the medical bed and passed it to him. “Never forget that.”
“Are you reading my mind again?”
“Dinnae I always?” She crossed her arms with a knowing smile. “You’re also about to correct the wrong done to Kyla when she was but a child. Giving her back the choice so brutally taken from her is all that matters. She too is a Matheson, no’ a MacKenzie. What name have you chosen for yourself?”
“Rand MacKenzie, from clan MacKenzie of Kintail.” He’d thought long and hard about what name to select before the perfect one had come to him. As a lad of eight, he’d been busy carving “R and C” into the trunk of a pine tree overlooking the cliffs near the fae village when Christina had skipped up the trail and danced around him. With her golden-red curls bouncing about her shoulders and a mischievous smile on her face, she’d tapped the trunk before he’d finished inscribing the “C” for the first letter of her name and asked him what he’d been doing. His face had gotten all hot and he’d been unable to finish the inscription, had stopped at “R and ” then stupidly babbled to her that Rand was a nickname.
She’d giggled and called him Rand for an entire week and he hadn’t minded one bit, not since her happiness had brightened his heart. Even at the young age of eight, he’d known one day she would be his, but telling her then had been impossible. He’d kept the knowledge to himself, or at least he had until the day when he’d been imprisoned within the dungeons of Carron Castle and come face to face with her once more. For the past twenty years his wee Christina had been known as Kyla, and his very soul had ached for her and the loss she’d suffered.
Such a barrage of emotions had raced through him that day.
Even though cuffed and chained to the gritty dungeon wall, a rat scratching about within one darkened corner, he’d never been more in awe of the woman standing so magnificently before him. Those sweet curls of hers were even more thick and luscious than in her childhood, the color such a vibrant golden hue with strands of red woven in, her locks now swaying all the way to her bottom. The tiny freckles she’d had as a child still dusted her cheeks and as he’d looked into her eyes, he’d become lost within her stunning blue gaze. Shock and awe at finding her had swarmed him.
He’d been searching for her his entire life, had never given up the possibility of finding her, but learning the truth about her abduction had astounded him. Now, he intended on returning to the place of his imprisonment to claim her, to have her accept their bond and choose him the same way as he wished to choose her.
“I like that name. Rand is perfect.” Annella hugged him. “Promise me you’ll be careful during your hunt.”
“Always, and I know I’ll have you to contend with if I’m no’.” Sword strapped on and his wrist daggers sheathed, he pulled on his boots.
“That’s right.” She squeezed his cheeks and sighed. “I shall miss this pretty face of yours while you’re gone.”