Beyond the Highland Myst(443)

I'm going to have to clear up this case of mistaken identity, Gwen thought, watching the children go in. She didn't care for the thought of misleading Maggie MacKeltar. Then all thought fled her mind as Maggie's husband,

Christopher, stepped out of the castle. Gwen sucked in a breath, feeling suddenly faint.

"Aye, the resemblance is strong, isn't it now?" Maggie said softly, watching her.

A dark lock of hair fell over Christopher's forehead, and he had the same extraordinary height and muscled body. His eyes were not silver, but a deep, peaceful gray. He looked so much like Drustan that it hurt to look at him.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Gwen stammered, trying to compose herself.

"I mean he looks like Drustan," Maggie replied.

Gwen opened her mouth but nothing came out. Like Drustan? What did they know about her and Drustan?

"Och, Gwen Cassidy," Christopher said with a thick Scots burr, "we've been waiting for you for some time now." Smiling, he slid his arm around Maggie's waist. They both stood there, beaming at her.

Gwen blinked. "How do you know my name?" she asked weakly. "What do you know about Drustan? What's going on here?" she asked, her voice rising.

Maggie kissed her husband's cheek, slipped from his embrace, and tucked her arm through Gwen's. "Come in, Gwen. We have much to tell you, but I think you might be needing to sit while you're hearing it."

"Sit," Gwen repeated dumbly, her knees feeling weak. "Good. Sitting would be good."

* * * * *

But sitting didn't happen, because the moment Gwen entered the Greathall, she froze, gaping at the portrait that hung above the double staircase facing the entrance.

It was her.

Six feet of Gwen Cassidy, clad in a pale lavender gown, blond hair tumbling about her face, graced the wall at the landing between the two staircases. "Me," she managed to say, pointing. "That's me."

Maggie laughed. "Aye. It was painted in the sixteenth century—"

But Gwen didn't hear the rest. Her attention was caught and held by the family portraits covering nearly every inch of the walls in the Greathall. From ancient times to modern day, they stretched from chair rail to ceiling.

Eager to see who Dageus had married, and what kind of children he'd fathered, she hurried past the modern paintings. Dimly, her mind registered that Maggie and Christopher were trailing behind her, now watching in silence.

At the section displaying the sixteenth century, Gwen drew to a stunned halt. She stared for a moment, unable to believe what she saw, then smiled as tears misted her eyes. She fancied she could hear faint strains of Silvan's laughter in the air. And Nell, making some saucy response. The patter of children's feet on stone.

The painting that held her captivated was eight feet tall. A full-length portrait, Nell was seated on the terrace, Silvan was standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Nell held twins in her arms. "Nell?" she finally said, turning to look at Maggie.

"Aye. The lot of us descend directly from Silvan and Nell MacKeltar. He wed his housekeeper, so the records say. They had four children. We have twins an uncommon lot in this family."

"He looks pretty old to be having kids to me," Colleen said, wrinkling her nose as she bounded back into the Greathall, followed by her siblings. "The tea's ready," she announced.

Gwen's heart swelled. "He was sixty-two," she said softly. And Nell hadn't been a spring chicken either. Dear Nell had gotten her babies back after all, and it had been Silvan who'd given them to her.

She moved to the next portrait, but two empty spaces followed. The wall was darker where portraits had once hung. "What was here?" she asked curiously. Had they taken down portraits of Drustan to give her?

Christopher and Maggie exchanged an odd glance. "Just two portraits being touched up," Christopher said. "There's Nell and Silvan again," he said, pointing farther down the wall.

Gwen eyed them a moment. "And Dageus? Where is Dageus?" she asked.

Again, the couple exchanged glances. "He's a mystery," Maggie finally said. "He wandered off somewhere in 1521."

"Is there no record of his death?"

"No," Maggie replied tersely.

How very odd, Gwen mused. But she would come back to that later, for now thoughts of Drustan consumed her. "Do you have any portraits of Drustan?"

"Mom!" Colleen cried. "Come on, you're killing me! Let's get on with it!"

Christopher and Maggie grinned. "Come, we have something more for you."

"But I have so many questions," Gwen protested. "How do you—"

"Later," Maggie said gently. "I think we need to show you this first, then you can ask whatever questions remain."