“Better than before,” Fiona answered, backing away and doing a little jig.
“Good, good.” Sorley laughed, along with the rest of the men, who she embraced. “The prince has been waiting for ye both.”
As if on cue, Bonnie Prince Charlie descended the gangplank to the dock and strode forward in his scuffed boots and with a slight limp. There was an excitement about him that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him. As a result, no doubt, of the French ship.
“Lady Fiona,” the prince said as he approached. Despite being slightly haggard around the edges, he still presented her with a handsome and winning smile. “And so we meet again. We’re glad to have you back.”
“Your Highness.” Fiona curtsied to the prince, and Brogan bowed his head.
“Sir Brogan,” the prince greeted.
Sir?
“Just Brogan, Your Highness,” her husband corrected.
“Ah, I almost forgot.” The prince pulled out his sword, the blade glinting in the sunlight. “Kneel, Brogan Grant.”
Fiona’s mouth went dry. Brogan, though his face was stoic, had tensed about the shoulders. Was he about to be knighted? Happiness and pride bubbled in her chest.
Brogan knelt on the pier, pressing his hands over his heart. The six of his men stood in a semicircle around them, and everyone on the pier stilled, the silence an echo of respect. The prince couldn’t have known how much this would mean to Brogan. Growing up a bastard, never quite fitting in, telling her he wasn’t really in charge when he clearly was. This was what he’d worked for, what he’d earned and deserved.
“For your valor and honor, your service to the rightful crown of Scotland and to God, as your prince regent and commander, I hereby bestow upon you the most noble title of Sir Knight of Glenmoriston. Before these witnesses and with God’s grace, Brogan Grant, I dub thee Sir Knight. Arise, Sir Brogan.”
Brogan stood slowly, his head held high, though he did have to slightly bend it to see the prince’s face.
“I am honored to serve my country, and ye, Your Highness,” Brogan said, placing his hand over his heart. “I will protect Scotland with my dying breath.”
The prince sheathed his sword. “You’ve earned it, Sir Brogan. ’Tis I who am honored to count you as an ally.”
Brogan nodded, his hands clasped behind his back.
“We are going to France,” the prince said, eyes squinted as he looked toward the horizon. There were new lines at the corners of his eyes and his brow. His hair was thin, and his clothes hung loosely. There was no doubt that since arriving in Scotland, he’d fared worse than he likely expected. Than all of them expected. “We leave in the next hour. Before Cumberland’s men arrive, which they will no doubt do. Half those in the village have already scattered, expecting the impending onslaught.” He shook his head in disappointment.
Fiona swallowed hard, fearful for those in the village, but also, had she heard correctly? The prince was going to France? He wasn’t going to sail out to sea and wait a time and then come back in when Cumberland’s army least expected it? He wasn’t simply going to call for reinforcements from abroad? He was leaving. He was abandoning Scotland. He was abandoning the cause. He was abandoning her.
“Come with us, Lady Fiona,” the prince said. “I will need my messenger. There will be much to plan when we land in France.”
“I canna leave without my husband.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized she’d said them. She flicked her gaze to Brogan. Publicly calling him her husband to their future king, that made it real, didn’t it? The prince had been with them before and thought them wed, but she felt the sudden urge to say it louder. To proclaim it to all, needing it to be real when it felt like everything right now was up in the air.
France… She’d never left Scotland. Not even been in England. She’d never even been to all the Scottish isles, save for those they’d visited on the run, and now the prince was asking her to travel across the Channel to France. She didn’t speak French very well. How would she get on? How was she to pass messages when she didn’t have a good enough grasp of the language?
“Then the both of you must come.” The nonchalance in the prince’s words lodged in her chest, as if it were that easy. As if uprooting from the country of their birth, the one they were sworn to protect, was not a big deal. As if the both of them should just board and abandon everything they knew.
If she left now, she wouldn’t be here when Gus and Leanna returned. They would find her having left the country with no word. It would be the same for the rest of her family. Uncle Tam expected her to return, and Ian… She glanced toward the ship, searching for her brother’s figure. He’d been with the prince this entire time and had now disappeared. Was he already on the ship, or had he decided not to attend the prince and gone back to Dòchas?
There was also the matter of her friends, her family by choice, those she’d made oaths to. She couldn’t abandon Jenny and Annie. Nor could she abandon the six warriors who’d stood by her and Brogan during the last months through thick and thin.
“Where is Ian?”
The prince nodded as if he’d been expecting that. “He’s returned to your lands. His duty is to your clan and castle, and he will help me from here. I informed him I’d be extending the invitation to you, and he gave his blessing.”
That easily… Fiona suppressed the urge to shake her head. This was all moving too quickly.
“If I may, Your Highness, ours was no’ a formal wedding,” Brogan said, shocking Fiona from her thoughts.
The prince just stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
“We didna wed in a church, before God,” Brogan said.
“Ah,” said the prince. “But you see, God is everywhere, not just the church. In the eyes of God, and his prince, the two of you are wed. But if you wish it upon the ship, I shall have my personal priest bless your union.”
Fiona breathed a sigh of relief. That was the thing, wasn’t it? Brogan was simply feeling guilty about them not having wed properly. And now the prince was going to see it done.
A commotion sounded from the ship, and the prince turned around as if that were his cue to depart. “I’ll see the both of you onboard.”
With the prince and his entourage melting down the planks toward the ship, Fiona faced Brogan. There was a dark shadow on his features that she didn’t like. A rock settled in her stomach. Sensing a shift in temperature, Brogan’s six men turned around to afford them a measure of privacy. Would the six of them come too? She couldn’t imagine Sorley leaving Kenna behind.
“What say ye, Sir Brogan, shall we go to France?” She smiled at him, hoping to calm some of the darkness she saw quickly gathering. Hoping to calm her own fears knotting in her belly.