“Probably,” Ross MacKay agreed. “Yer mother taught yer sisters that, amongst other things.”
Conall wondered what those other things might be, but then decided it didn’t matter, since he doubted they would be very useful to Claray at MacDonald. At least, not at first. Deagh Fhortan wasn’t your usual castle where a new bride could swan in and begin ordering servants about and discussing menus with the cook, or whatever they normally did. There actually weren’t any servants yet, or even clans people other than his warriors. Although those with wives and families would surely want to bring them to MacDonald now. He also hoped once word spread that he was there, the other surviving members of his clan would return. If there were any. In the meantime, there would be a lot of work needed to even make it livable, let alone a home, and he began to worry now about what Claray was expecting and what he was taking her into. The last time he’d seen the castle, nature had already got a good foothold on it, and that had been twelve years ago. It could only be worse now.
“What are ye going to work on first at Deagh Fhortan?” Payton asked suddenly, as if reading his troubled thoughts.
Conall grimaced at the question as he realized it wasn’t something he’d really thought about. Mostly what had concerned him was getting together enough coin to repair it and return it to a working castle. Now he considered all the work that would no doubt need doing, and said slowly, “The castle wall and stables, I suppose.”
“Smart,” his uncle said with an approving nod. “The two most important matters. A wall for defense and the stables to keep yer horses safe and dry and healthy. A man is naught without his horse.”
Payton gave a snort of amusement. “I would no’ let Mother hear ye say that, Father. Or ye might find yerself sleeping in the MacKay stables when ye get home.”
Ross MacKay scowled at his son. “She’d agree with me. Without a horse, ye can no’ go hunting, or travel, or ride into battle.”
“And without a wife ye’ve no one to keep ye warm of a night and give ye bairns,” Payton pointed out. “I’m pretty sure keepin’ a wife warm and safe and healthy is important too.”
“Aye, o’ course it is. But Castle Deagh Fhortan still stands and merely needs some cleaning up and such,” Conall’s uncle said. “The stables, however, fell to wood rot long ago. The lasses can clean the castle while the men shore up the wall and rebuild the stables.”
“And what lasses would that be?” Payton asked with interest.
“Yer mother, Kenna and I are staying fer a bit to help,” Ross MacKay said with a shrug. “Between the three of them they should have the place tidy in no time.”
Recalling the state of the keep when he’d last seen it, Conall suspected his uncle might be a little off with that belief.
“’Tis beautiful.”
Claray blinked her eyes open at those words, her gaze immediately finding Kenna. The woman was sitting on her horse directly beside Conall’s horse, with her mother on her other side and her father next to her. Meanwhile, Claray was riding with her husband. Although that was a generous description since the horse presently wasn’t moving and she wasn’t doing anything like riding. The truth was she’d been sleeping in his lap throughout most of the five-day journey.
Claray had started every morning on Stubborn Bastard’s back with Lovey trotting along beside them, and if the MacKay ladies were feeling chatty, she could last for hours in the saddle. But once the talking slowed and stopped, she started to nod off and found herself dragged into Conall’s lap where she slept for the rest of that day’s ride. Which meant that when they stopped for the night, she was incredibly perky and wide awake, while everyone else was dragging themselves around and ready to collapse inside their plaids and sleep.
It had made for a long boring trip with days spent sleeping, and nights spent staring at the stars in the night sky. She’d spent her evenings wondering what her brother and sisters were doing, how her father was and if Edmund was doing all right tending all her creatures by himself. Claray had spent very little time thinking and wondering about her future home and new husband though. That was mostly because he was a cranky bastard when traveling and she was almost afraid to consider what shape Deagh Fhortan might be in.
Deagh Fhortan meant Good Fortune, but from what she could tell the MacDonalds had enjoyed precious little of that, and after twenty-two years of neglect, she suspected the castle would need a lot of what her mother had liked to call “love and attention.” Which translated to hard work and a good cleaning.
“Aye. ’Tis quite lovely from here,” Lady MacKay said, drawing her from her thoughts.
Claray turned to look at the scene ahead and below them and caught her breath with surprise. They were stopped on a hill, looking down over a large, lush green valley with Deagh Fhortan on a smaller hill at its center. And it could only be Deagh Fhortan since she doubted there were a lot of abandoned castles strewn about Scotland. This one was definitely empty. Nothing was moving and everything was green except where bits of a pale beige stone with a tint of red to it was peeking out. The castle was still there, its shape obvious, but it was covered with greenery, as was everything around it.
Trees, shrubs and grass filled the land where most castles would have a clear space to prevent attackers sneaking up on them. Trees and grass were also growing along what she guessed used to be the moat, but now was a bright green ring around the castle. There were also trees and shrubs and greenery filling the bailey, and some kind of vine seemed to be covering a good portion of the walls of the keep, the towers and most of the curtain wall. But most surprising was the greenery she could see inside the buildings themselves. At least the ones that no longer had roofs to cover them and keep out the sunlight. It was as if the forest had laid siege, and taken over the castle.
But it was beautiful with the sun dappling all that green, Claray acknowledged. It looked like a fairy castle . . . It also looked like she had a lot of work ahead of her to make it a home.
“Well, we’d best head down and see what needs doin’,” Ross MacKay said solemnly.
Claray felt Conall’s chest move as he expelled a breath and nodded his head. When he then urged his mount forward to lead their party down into the valley, she sat up in his lap so that she could look around. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a land so verdant and beautiful. There wasn’t even a path down the side of the hill anymore; they were trotting through grasses that grew past the horses’ legs and probably tickled their bellies.
For some reason that made her think of Stubborn Bastard and she shifted to look over Conall’s shoulder in search of her stallion. She found him right beside Conall’s mount a little behind where she sat, his head right next to her own. Shifting further around, she reached toward the horse, and smiled when he turned his head to lick her hand.
“Ye’re no’ holding his reins,” she said with surprise when she noted them looped around Stubborn Bastard’s pommel.
“No need,” Conall said dryly. “He does no’ let ye out o’ his sight.”
“Oh,” Claray said, but wondered how long he had just left the horse to follow like that. She was pretty sure Conall had been holding the reins the first night when she’d woken up in his lap, but wasn’t sure about the nights after that. Patting the horse’s nose, she dropped her gaze to the ground, asking, “Where is Lovey?”