Returning to her bedchamber, she discovered a message from Gavan. He told her he had men waiting to rescue her, and with the help of her trusted maid she managed to slip through the castle once everyone had fallen asleep.

Reunited, the lovers rode to a nearby church to be married.

The next morning the Baron’s army, upon discovering Isla was gone, headed off towards Tàileach. Along the way they met up with the newlyweds. The Baron demanded the girl be handed over, but he was met by the minister, who announced he had already wed the two. The Baron, fuming at having been tricked, sent his men immediately into battle, during which both Isla and Gavan were killed.

The horror of losing their children united the warring clans and they immediately joined forces, and fought the Baron and his army, killing them all.

From that moment on, the two clans, united by marriage and bonded by grief, eventually became one.

The graves of Gavan and Isla were put on the border of the two lands and a monument was built in their honour, where it stood for hundreds of years as a sign of reconciliation and friendship between the two families for generations that followed.

But legend says, if you stand beneath the arch under a blanket of stars on a clear night, you may see Gavan and Isla, reunited once again, sharing in death the wedding dance they were never able to have in life.

FOUR

Four

An annoyingly persistent sound echoed from somewhere in the distance, slowly dragging Elle from sleep. As she emerged from a foggy slumber, she eventually identified it as her ring-tone and pulled her pillow over her head, trying to ignore the noise. But after a brief silence, the phone rang again, and Elle reluctantly rolled over to answer it.

‘Good morning, darling. Are you available today? I just received a phone call from Terry Bartholomew. He’d like to do Gran’s will reading.’

Elle opened her eyes and immediately winced. She had forgotten to shut her blinds the night before and bright sunshine streamed in through her bedroom window, reminding her just how much wine she had drunk last night.

‘Elspeth?’ Her mother’s brisk tone brought her back to the matter at hand.

‘Yes. I’m here.’ Did she have to yell?

‘Are you able to make it today?’

‘To what?’

She heard her mother’s tongue click in impatience. ‘Terry Bartholomew’s office, for the reading of your gran’s will. Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. I overslept.’ And seemed to be suffering from a slight hangover. ‘I thought the will thing wasn’t until next week?’ ‘It wasn’t. Terry wanted to move it forward because he’s going away. So, we’ll see you at ten?’