Page 26 of The Best of Brenna Grant

“I ken, but ‘twas it not the best, grandsire? It gets better each time.”

Soon the only ones left in the room with her besides Torrian were Loki and the two priests.

Her voice cracked and she whispered, “I do not understand.”

“Please, allow me to explain,” Father Francis said.

She nodded and folded her hands into her lap while Torrian sat in the chair next to hers and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Father Francis said, “Many years ago, I fell in love with the sweetest woman in the world, and I believe she is your mother.”

Heather tried to stop her breath from hitching, but she could not.

“Your mother, Ciara Blackett, was married to an evil man. A long time before I became a priest, I lived in a cottage not far from her. I fell in love with your mother, and I am ashamed to say we committed a grave sin. You see, Ciara had two children, Loki, who sits in front of you, and a daughter. I believe both children were mine rather than Blackett’s. This daughter was never named, and I was told that both Ciara and her two children died soon after the daughter’s birth. I never met you, but I had seen Loki. I know ‘tis possible that I’m wrong and you are not my daughter, but your eye color tells me you are.”

Heather looked back and forth between the two men in front of her. Could it be true? Her vision flooded with tears as she stared at these men whose eye coloring was identical to hers.

“It must be true,” she whispered. “I’ve not seen another with eyes like ours.”

Father said, “Nay, ‘tis quite rare.”

She turned to Torrian. “You knew?”

“Aye. I suspected many moons ago when I came upon you while I was in the woods with my pups, but you ran away. At the time, I’d just learned that Loki’s sire was alive.”

Loki added, “Do not fault Torrian. When he told me about you, I asked him not to share the truth with you. I think ‘tis something that must be done in person.” Then Loki asked, “Would you mind telling us what you know of your parents? Who raised you? That may help us piece everything together.”

Heather stuttered, but she continued. “I was raised by my grandparents in Perthshire, not far from the Buchan land. They told me my mother died in childbirth. I recall meeting an aunt on a couple of occasions, but she was a distance away.”

“Do you remember aught about a brother?” Loki’s gaze settled on her, unwavering.

Tears misted in her eyes as she thought back to a day when she was young. Her grandmama had told her she looked like her brother. “Aye, on one occasion my grandmother mentioned a brother, but my grandsire yelled at her.” She stared at her hands in her lap. “They never said another word about a brother. I thought she was mistaken. I had no idea…”

Loki said, “I know exactly how you feel, lass. Kenzie brought me to Father Francis the same way.”

Tears spilled over onto her cheeks and she reached for Torrian’s hand. “I recall one other thing.”

Father Francis whispered, “What is it, lass?”

“The only thing they said about my sire was that they hated him. They said my mother was the sweetest creature ever, and my father was cruel.”

“Mayhap we should leave it to you, Heather. I cannot prove you are my daughter, but I can attest that your mother was indeed the sweetest creature ever, and if you believe me to be your sire, I’d be happy to tell you all I know about her.”

Heather sobbed into her hands, then stood and leaned toward Loki. Wrapping her arms around him, she said, “I’m so happy to meet you, brother.” She turned to Father Francis and fell into his arms sobbing. “Will you tell me about my mother someday?”

“Aye, naught would give me more pleasure.”

Loki let out a deep breath. “I believe you’re my sister. My mother hated Blackett. I’ve met him and they had good reason to hate him. He beat her. You were fortunate your…our grandparents took you away. I wish I had known them. You have much to share with me.”

She turned to him with a questioning look. “You did not know them?”

“Blackett left me to die in the woods after our mother died. I suffered a head injury that took my memories of my life before that. Though some memories have returned, I have none of grandparents. I may have known them, but I do not recall. I lived on the roads of Ayr for years until I was adopted by the Grants. Father Francis is my true sire, but Brodie Grant is my adopted sire.”

“Welcome to the family, Heather Preston,” Father Francis said. “I must confess, I am the one who asked Father Rab not to marry you until we met. It was too late for me to marry my son and his wife, but I hoped for the opportunity to be the one to marry you and Torrian, if it proved true that you are my daughter.”

“I would be honored to have you marry us, Father.” Heather laughed and hugged them both. She turned back to gaze at Torrian. “Do you not agree?”

He rubbed his hand in small circles on her back. “Aye. I would be honored, and it pleases me that your brother is my cousin. I hope you are not angry at me for keeping the secret.”