“The garden with the cherry trees, m'lord?”
Hugh stopped and cast a surprised glance at the young woman.
“The cherry tr...” he started. “So! Colin showed you his mother's garden.”
“Aye, Lord Hugh, he did,” Celia responded uncertainly. “I hope that's all right. I never intended to intrude.”
“Intrude? Nonsense!” he boomed, his eyes sparkling. “I didn't know the boy had such good sense. Come on, it's time I saw those trees again.”
Hugh led them out through the old corridors of the castle and through the library onto the garden's stone terrace. The shocked look on the guard who jumped aside for Lord Hugh attested to the chief's long absence from this portion of the building grounds.
Celia stood back and watched Hugh's expression as he stood looking out at the garden. The four trees were ablaze with color from the delicate pink and white flowers. His eyes reflected the sparkling brilliance of the sunlight as it danced on the blue waves of the water beyond the garden walls, and Celia knew that memories of a beloved woman were flooding back over years of separation.
“These trees have certainly grown since the last time I looked at them,” Lord Hugh rumbled softly. They all stood silently for a moment while he took in the entire scene—the formal design, the fountain in the center, the wildly untended arbors and flower beds. His eyes traveled to the now weed-grown turf bench on the outside wall that had been a favorite of his wife's. She had spent many an afternoon sitting there reading to Colin the fables of Robert Henryson and French tales of knights and their ladies. Meanwhile, around them, the workers had roughed out the garden's design.
“I'm sorry,” Celia whispered, putting a hand on Hugh's elbow as Ellen took Kit down the steps into the area protected from the wind by the walls. “I didn't mean to put you through this.”
“Hush, Celia,” Hugh growled gently. “It was high time I came out here. And I cannot think of a better person to come out here with.”
“Thank you, m'lord.” She blushed. She looked out at the sight before them. “The design of the garden is incredibly beautiful.”
“Aye,” he replied, “Colin's mother was an amazing woman.”
Lord Hugh motioned Celia down the steps and the two walked side by side along the leaf-strewn paths between the clumps of yellowed grass and overgrown tangles of briers that Celia assumed must have been roses.
“When Colin's mother died,” the chieftain continued, pausing thoughtfully between his sentences as he recalled the years, “I closed off the garden. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to come out here, and I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else coming out here. `For some reason'...that's not exactly true. I know the reason. I didn't want anyone else here in this garden that was so much a part of her. Sitting where she had sat. Walking where she had walked.”
Hugh walked to the circular fountain in the center and put one foot up on the stone retaining wall.
“This was her garden. She loved it. She loved planning it, working in it, enjoying it...sharing it. And I loved her...love her...I still do. I couldn't bear to think of this place changing, growing, becoming different. Oh, I know it had to change—but I didn't want to see it happen.” He paused, gazing at Ellen playing with Kit by the terrace steps. “I know Colin continued to come out here, and I never tried to stop him. It is a kind of refuge for him, I suppose. It is a place of good memories.”
Hugh looked at the young woman standing quietly beside him. Celia had the same quiet reserve of strength, the same intelligence, the same sense of her own identity that his own Constance had. Colin would be a fool to let this one get away. But somehow Hugh didn't think that was going to happen.
“There is something you ought to know about the Campbells, lass. We may be tough, miserable brigands, but when we love a woman, it's for ever. If you'll pardon an old man's pride here, it's like finding the woman who's been fated for us. Chosen, I suppose. Destined. And when we find her, we know that this woman is our match, our chosen, our anointed...for life.”
Celia's gaze rested on the colors of the tree in the far corner of the garden. How wonderful it must be, she thought, to love and be loved so much. Unconsciously her hand went to the medallion that hung outside her gown, to the only physical reminder she had of the loving relationship her parents had. Celia had often thought of their love in terms such as those that Lord Hugh had spoken of. Even after so many years had passed, her father had called for Celia's mother before he died. He had cherished her memory, and had always told Celia of her goodness, of her strength, of her beauty.
“I know your father felt that way about your mother,” Hugh said.
“You mentioned last night that you knew my father,” Celia questioned.
“Aye, I did,” Hugh responded wryly. “We had some...well, business dealings together.”
“Did you?” Celia replied with surprise. “I do not ever remember coming to Kildalton Castle. That must have been before I traveled with him.”
“Probably so,” Hugh went on. “Edmund brought us together about fifteen years ago, I'd guess.”
“I was traveling with him then.”
“A mere bairn?” Hugh laughed. “Traveling with a bunch of pirates? John Muir must have really distrusted that York family of his.”
“Why do you say `pirates'?” Celia shot indignantly. “They were fine sailors.”
“Aye, lass,” Hugh agreed, eyeing her searchingly. “Aside from my men, John Muir had assembled the finest sailors a pirate chief could hope for.”
“No,” she began. “My father was a fine man, a respected merchant. He was no...”
Celia stared at the calm face of the giant, and suddenly things started to make sense. In all the years she had sailed with her father, his ships had never been attacked, even when they had sailed in what the sailors had called “dangerous waters.” But they had always smiled at each other over her head when they said things like that. They had never seemed frightened, even when they heard, as they so often did, the guns of sea battles in the distance, and later found unmanned, disabled Spanish ships, their cargo holds full of booty her father told her the Spaniards had stolen in the New World.
How blind can a child be? she thought. We were simply picking up the loot that his other ships had captured. Now she knew why her father's name was so well known. He was no merchant. He was a thief. Respected? He was feared.
“...thief,” she finished in shock. “My father was a common thief.”
“No thief he was, lass,” Hugh rumbled, taking her hand in his. “Nor was he common, either. He was an honorable man. A pirate? Aye. And for a long while he served with a nod from old King Henry VII. But in those days, the line between pirate and what the lawyers are now calling `privateer' was fairly indistinct. There were just a few of us in that business then. Alec Macpherson's father was my partner in it. We kept the Irish Sea clear and took profits from those whom our kings disliked at the time. But you were so young. It's only natural that your father never told you anything about that side of his life. You shouldn't think ill of him for protecting you as well as he could.”
Celia paused before answering him.
“I loved my father, and I know he loved me. We were as close as any father and child could be. But that side of his life...I was a part of it, and I never saw it. Never suspected it. Suddenly I feel like there's so much I do not know about my family, about my life.”
Hugh sat down on the fountain wall and pulled Celia down beside him.
“Let me tell you how it all started. You probably do know a lot of this, but let me clear up your perception of your father. Let me tell you the truth about your family. What the world knows. What you should know.’
“Your father was the second son in a branch of the York family that was beaten, reconciled, and then beaten again when Henry Tudor took the English crown from old hunchbacked Yorkist King Richard. When Henry became king, he had no money, and the York family continued to be a thorn in his side. To make matters worse, the Spaniards and the French were harrying the English coastline mercilessly.
“Being the second son in a family who were now political outsiders, John Muir had very little interest in just sitting back and living off the wealth of his ancestors. So, your father went to the new king and offered his services keeping the Spaniards and the French out of English waters, and King Henry gladly gave him a license to do it. It made sense. Henry got one of the Yorks fighting for him rather than against him. And it gave your father a chance to make his own way in the world.
“In a very short time, his success at sea became a profitable business for everyone. Henry's treasury began to fill up with Spanish bullion, and your father took his share of the booty and established a legitimate shipping business. Needless to say, his trading ships were the best protected on the high seas. But he also continued to raid foreign ships that he came across in English waters. And his fearlessness was legendary.
“By now, your father's extensive wealth was no secret to anyone. He had lands in England and a fleet of ships that exceeded King Henry's. So when he met and decided to marry your mother, the daughter of a Scottish knight and a descendant of Robert the Bruce, his family objected, and later on so did King Henry. It wasn't enough that he'd filled all their pockets—they all wanted a hand in choosing his wife. Marriage is business to a lot of families, in England and in Scotland.