Page 78 of The Highlander's Chosen Wife
Mabel stood near the gate, her own cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders, her face bright with the crisp morning. Isabelle smiled as she approached.
“Mabel,” Isabelle greeted, her voice carrying warmth despite the cold, “ye’re brave to face the chill with us today.”
Mabel chuckled softly. “Och, it’s nae so bad. I’ll take the winter air o’er the draughts of the abbey any day. Besides, I couldnae let ye venture out with these wee lassies alone; they’d have ye knee-deep in snow before long.”
Isabelle laughed. “Aye, that they would. They’ve much mischief, these three.”
The triplets, hearing their names mentioned, turned toward them with beaming smiles.
Hallie lifted a stick like a sword. “We’re goin’ to find the prettiest vines in all of Scotland!” she declared.
Beth clapped her hands. “An’ the shiniest holly with berries bright as rubies!”
Penelope twirled in the snow, her braid swinging. “What’s Yule, Auntie Mabel? Da never tells us.”
Mabel smiled, her breath misting as she bent to their height. “Ah, Yule, me bonnie bairns, is a time of light an’ warmth when the days are darkest.
“Long ago, folk would burn the Yule log to chase away the shadows of winter. It’s a time for songs, for kindness, for rememberin’ that even in the cold, there’s love burnin’ bright.”
She reached out to brush snow from Penelope’s hood. “We bring the holly an’ the vines to remind us that life still grows, even when the world seems asleep.”
Hallie’s eyes widened. “So, the holly’s magic?”
“Aye,” Mabel said softly. “Magic of hope, lass. The same kind that keeps the hearth warm an’ hearts soft.”
Isabelle felt her chest tighten with a tenderness she hadn’t expected. Watching Mabel with the girls stirred something deep in her, a yearning for belonging she hadn’t realized she craved.
They walked beyond the castle walls, boots crunching over the frosted earth. The woods ahead glittered faintly with ice, branches draped in white like spun lace.
The triplets darted ahead, Bren trailing behind carrying baskets with a patient sigh as she tried to keep up. Isabelle and Mabel followed more slowly, their skirts brushing snow from low branches.
“They’ve taken quite the liking to ye,” Mabel remarked with a smile. “Ye’ve brought light back into this place, Isabelle. They needed that.”
Isabelle ducked her head under a low branch, her cheeks warming despite the cold.
“Och, it’s kind of ye to say, but I think it’s they who bring light to me. I havenae felt so much laughter in… well, in a long while.”
Mabel glanced at her sideways. “Aye. Declan’s been different too, ye ken. There’s softness where there was once only stone.”
Isabelle hesitated, brushing her glove against a holly branch heavy with red berries.
“He keeps to himself still,” she murmured. “Sleeps in the Stone Hearth room as though he cannae bear to share a bed with me. I dinnae ken what to make of it.”
Mabel’s tone was gentle. “Give him time, lass. He’s carried sorrow longer than most men live. But ye, ye’re chippin’ away at that wall of his, bit by bit.”
Isabelle smiled faintly, though her heart felt heavy. “I hope ye’re right.”
The girls’ laughter broke the quiet as Hallie called out, “Look! I found the best vines!”
They ran ahead to a patch of evergreen that had survived the frost, tangled in loops that trailed like ribbons.
Isabelle joined them, kneeling in the snow to help them cut the vines free.
Beth proudly held up her bundle. “These’ll make grand wreaths, won’t they, Lady Isabelle?”
“Aye, they will,” Isabelle said, her voice soft with affection. “We’ll twine them with holly berries an’ hang them by every hearth in the keep.”
Penelope’s small hand slipped into hers. “Will Da like it?” she asked earnestly.
