his back, his gaze fixed on the timbers above their heads.
“I come from the clan Kincade. We live in the southern part of Scotland. Some would call us Lowlanders, but we aren’t. Lowlanders are more English in their way of thinking. To a true scot, he can be a highlander even if he lives in the lowlands. All clans are different too, many would argue with the point I made just now.”
“What does that mean, to be in a clan?” Lydia asked. “It’s more than just a family, isn’t it?”
“In the old days, before the Battle of Culloden, it did mean one’s family. The word clan itself is from the Gaelic word clann, which means children.”
“Children?”
“Aye. A man in a distant time began a family, and his name was carried on in the lives of all of his family members. And the people of Scotland, even as divided as we are by names, are all like the wild deer herds that roam the remote glens and mountain passes. We, like the deer, appear and disappear, vanishing into the dense forests, only to reemerge whenever we wish. We are the Clann a’ Cheò.”
“What does that mean, Clann a’ Cheò?” Lydia moved a little closer, and he placed his hands beneath his head.
“It means ‘children of the mist.’”
A soft sigh came from her side of the bed. “It’s rather lovely, and it sounds fitting.” Her tone was filled with a quiet wonder that stirred a strange feeling within his chest.
“Scotland is lovely,” he agreed, and a sudden, undeniable need to be home filled him, making his chest tight. “Some call it a harsh land, because it has so few soft edges like England. But what is there—the cold lochs, the rocky mountains, the wooded glens and primeval forests—’tis stunning. All that is strong lives and grows in Scotland. There is a beauty to that.”
He closed his eyes, picturing the lands around Castle Kincade, the way the light gleamed upon the green hills where the castle perched and the way the sky reflected upon the still waters of the loch nearby.
“That does sound rather wonderful.”
“The land changes with the seasons. In spring, the fields are covered with wildflowers. In the summer, a heat settles thick upon the meadows until the storms come off the coast and carry away the humid air. And in the fall, as the leaves change and Samhuinn approaches . . .”
“What is Samhuinn?”
“Samhuinn signals the end of summer. We slaughter our fat cattle and preserve the meat for our long winter ahead. We also light bonfires to remember the old ways. Samhuinn Eve is the night when the shadow bodies of the dead walk once more amongst the living. That night, the veil between the worlds becomes as thin as gossamer. Many hills and ridges have special places where we set pyres ablaze to signal the start to a new year. It is said that this is where the living and the dead dance and sing in the flickering shadows together.”
Lydia turned on her side to face him. “Do you believe the dead rise again during Samhuinn?”
“I do,” Brodie replied, his tone quiet. “The first Samhuinn after my mother died, I was in the library. There was no candlelight—only moonlight filled the room. I saw a figure by the window. Her gown seemed to . . . I don’t know how to describe it, but it seemed to be blurred at the edges, like smudges or the tendrils of black smoke crawling up from a dying fire. I didna know who the woman was until I approached her. She turned toward me, only to vanish in silvery mist. But as she did, I saw her face as clearly as I see yours now. It was my mother.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Were you frightened?”
“Of my mother? Never. She was a woman who held only love in her heart. But now I fear that someday my father will come back as she did. I doubt that reunion will be as pleasant.”
“Your father is gone as well?”
“Aye, he is, and thank bloody Christ too.”
“You didn’t like your father?”
“No. I didna like him, and I certainly didna love the man. He was a cruel bastard. We buried him not too long ago, and I fear every approaching Samhuinn now that he will return. He would not be kind if he did. He would be angry and spiteful, and I dinna wish to see that.”
“I can understand that.” Lydia sighed, the sound so sorrowful it