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“Albert, apparently sensing that Traigh was, at that moment, plotting the different ways in which he’d kill their youngest brother, spoke up. “So will it be a hangin’in store fer Graeme, or do ye just plan on beatin’him half to death?” Traigh glanced at Albert. “I have no’decided just yet.” Albert was the most serious of the six MacAulay brothers. He rarely spoke without thinking first, and he was not one to go about chasing lasses like their brothers, Bruce and Albert. Neither was he one to jest frequently. ’Twas also said that Albert was as tightfisted with his money as a bairn is to his mother’s teat. Trying to get money from him was akin to trying to squeeze water from a stone. “I say we hang him,”Albert said, and not in jest. Traigh, though sorely tempted, knew ’twas impossible. “Our mother would have our heads if we hang him.” Albert thought on it for a moment. “Mayhap one day he will be out ridin’and have a mishap, whereby he falls off a cliff.” Traigh stared at him for a long while, uncertain if he was jesting or serious. Part of him was afraid to ask. Albert was just as vexed over Graeme’s behavior as Traigh was. “Remind me never to make ye angry,”he said. Albert raised a blonde brow. “Ye? Nay, I doubt ye’d ever anger me to the point of murder. Graeme, however, is another matter. I fear he has been so busy with book learnin’that he has fergotten everythin’a MacAulay stands for.” “Honor above self,”Traigh said. ’Twas the creed all MacAulays lived by. “Aye,”Albert said. “And right now, I believe he’s puttin’his own feelin’s ahead of everythin’. How anyone can remain angry for so long is beyond me. But then, I have no’had all the book learnin’that Graeme has had. Mayhap he can explain it to us.”Though his voice was laced with sarcasm, there was much truth to what he was saying. Traigh had to chuckle. “Shall we allow him to explain it before or after we beat him senseless?” Albert took a moment before answering. “Mayhap before, fer ’twill be difficult to understand him once I knock out a few of his teeth.” “Again, remind me ne’er to make ye angry, brother.” Albert shrugged his shoulders before urging his horse to move faster, leaving Traigh to wonder if he should mayhap begin to pray that Albert did not get his hands on Graeme first.”

AlbertTraighHonor Above Self
Book:Isle of the Blessed
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“She speaks French,” Graeme muttered. Traigh turned quite serious and nodded his head. “Aye, she be speakin’ French. Mayhap she learned it from listenin’ to ye and yer French friend speakin’ it these past days.” Though his tone sounded serious, there was a decidedly sarcastic undertone to it. “Ye knew,” Graeme said as he glared angrily at his brother. Traigh feigned innocence. “Moi?” Graeme’s glare intensified. “Why did ye no’ tell me? Why did she no’ tell me?” Traigh smiled thoughtfully and placed a hand on Graeme’s shoulder . “Ye did no’ ask.”

FrenchGraemeTraigh
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“Traigh began the taunting first. “Pray, tell me brother, be there any truth to these rumors floatin’ about the keep?” Graeme shot him a look of warning. It didn’t do a bit of good. “What rumors be those, brother Traigh?” Albert asked, feigning ignorance on the matter. Traigh crossed his arms over his chest. “Why, the rumors that our brother Graeme has fallen in love with our Joie. So much so that they will be married this verra day.” Graeme had two choices. He could tell his brothers to shut their mouths and leave him be or he could stand like a man and admit the truth, at least as much of it as he could without looking like a fool. “Aye,” he said as he stepped toward them. “The rumors be true. I have fallen hopelessly in love with my Joie, and aye, we will be married this verra day. Before the evenin’ meal, in fact.” Traigh and Albert were momentarily stunned at Graeme’s open admission. But ’twas short-lived. Broad smiles broke out on their faces and soon, they were congratulating him with hugs and heavy slaps on the back. When the celebrating was over, Traigh asked, “Do ye ken what ye’re to do this night? After the weddin’?” Graeme’s smile evaporated almost instantly. “If ye utter one unkind, disrespectful word as it pertains to consummation and me wife, I swear, I will beat ye within an inch of yer life.” Traigh quickly wiped away the smile and attempted to appear serious and fully chastised. “Aye, Albert, he be in love, let there be no doubt.”

SiblingsAlbertGraemeTraigh
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“Albert slid quietly from his horse and walked across a small clearing, and before Graeme knew what was happening, picked him up and threw him arse over toes into the cool water. As the very stunned — and soon Albert would realize, quite angry — Graeme got his bearings and stood up, coughing and sputtering, Albert turned back to his horse. At that point, a swarthy looking man, wearing a ridiculous looking tunic and an even more ridiculous pair of trews, jumped from behind two large boulders with his weapon drawn. “Prepare to die, peasant,” he shouted in French. Albert raised a curious brow as he unsheathed his broadsword. The falchion the Frenchman had pointed at him was no match for his broadsword. “Who the bloody hell are ye?” “I am Remi Francois Claremont LeFavre,” Remi answered with a slight bow and flourish. “Brother to the man you just threw into the lake and whose honor you have besmirched by your actions. Again, peasant, I tell you to prepare to die.” Albert rolled his eyes and re-sheathed his sword. “Is this fool with ye?” Albert asked Graeme.”

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“I will no’ be tellin’ ye ‘I told ye so’, but I will be usin’ words to that effect.” Marcum said as he sat behind the table in his study. “I was right, aye?” Graeme knew any attempt to deny that everyone else had been right would seem ludicrous. Instead, he paced around his father’s study, his mind sprinting from one thought to another. “As was yer mum,” Marcum said as he poured himself a cup of fine whisky. “And yer brothers. They were right as well.” Graeme stopped pacing long enough to glare at his father. The man sat tall and proud in his chair, a look of deep satisfaction etched on his face. “Are ye quite done?” Marcum laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that made his belly and shoulders shake. “Well, the cook, stable master, and blacksmith knew it as well.” Graeme let out a long heavy breath. “Aye, everyone on God’s earth knew but me.” “Aye, ye have the way of it, son.”

Father And SonGraemeI Told You SoMarcum
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“Irline crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at him, her curiosity quite evident. “A boon?” “Aye, just one boon.” “Tell me what boon it be that ye seek. I’ll no’ say aye or nay until I hear it.” He was quite thankful that she was at least willing to listen. “Let me have just a few moments with Joie, alone, without all the women around.” “Are ye daft?” she asked with a most serious tone. “Aye, I fear so,” he said as he offered her a warm smile. “All I ask is fer a few moments alone with her. I’ll even keep the door open and ye can watch to make certain I do no’ do anythin’ either one of us would be ashamed of.” Irline studied him closely for several long moments, sizing him up, looking for any hint of insincerity or deceit. Finally, she gave a curt nod of her head. “Verra well,” she said. Graeme was so overcome with relief that he scooped her up and hugged her. “Put me down, now, Graeme MacAulay!” she said as she smacked the back of his head. He was still smiling when he carefully set her back on her feet. “Thank ye, Irline, from the bottom of me heart.” “Do no’ thank me yet, Graeme. If yer mum finds out, I’ll lie and tell her ye held us all at sword point.” “’ Tis a risk I be willin’ to take,” he said.”

GraemeBoonsIrlineTrying To See Joie
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“Reaching into his sporran, he pulled out a small bundle wrapped in fine linen. “I want to give ye somethin’, somethin’I want ye to wear this day.”Carefully, he unfolded the linen and held his hand out to her. Josephine’s eyes widened with curiosity and joy. “’Tis beautiful, Graeme!” “It be a brooch that each MacAulay lad receives when he turns six and ten. I want ye to have it.” Josephine carefully took it and studied it closely. Made of pewter, in the center of the brooch were two hands, one decidedly masculine, the other feminine. The masculine hand held the feminine hand in his palm. In the center of her palm was a tiny ruby. To one side, the circle had been engraved to look like stars twinkling near a crescent moon. On the other were the words aeterna devotione. Eternal devotion. Tears filled her eyes as she looked into his. “Ye want me to have this?” “Aye, I do, Joie,”he said as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Me great-great-great grandfather presented a brooch just like this to his wife, me great-great-great grandmum. But no’until the first anniversary of their weddin’day. ’Twas a symbol of the great love they had found with one another. ’Tis tradition for the MacAulay men to only give their brooch to a woman who has stolen their heart, a woman they love and trust above all else.” Tears trailed down her cheeks, her heart beating so rapidly she was certain it would burst through her breastbone at any moment. “I do no’quite understand how it happened, or how it happened so quickly, Joie, but it has. Amorem in corde meo ut arctius coccino colloeandus arctius ideo astra,”Graeme said first in Latin and then again in Gaelic, “Toisc go bhfuil do ghrá eitseáilte isteach i mo chroí i corcairdhearg, mar sin tá sé eitseáilte amonst na réaltaí.”He placed a tender kiss on her cheek. “As yer love be etched into me heart in crimson, so it be etched amongst the stars,”he told her. “As me grandda said those words to me grandmum all those many years ago, I say them to ye.”

Eternal DevotionGraeme And Joie
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