Entwined (32 page)

“Shall I get some plates?” she asked, letting the quilt drop from her shoulders as she rose.

“It’s a good thing that Shannon disappeared.”

“What do you mean?” Eilidh said, sliding two pewter plates and two spoons from a wooden box in the back of the cart.

“We’d have had a much rougher trip if we hadn’t been able to raid the farmhouse.”

“What do you suppose happened to Shannon?” Eilidh asked, passing Duncan the plates.

“I don’t know, but I’m not so sure I care much. She was a bad one. Rotten through and through,” he said, spooning some of the liquid and meat onto the plates.

Eilidh nodded but a frown crept over her brow.

“Perhaps we should try and find her?” Eilidh said eventually.

“Are you out of your mind?” Duncan said, handing her one of the loaded plates. “The girl tried to kill you.”

“Aye, Duncan, I know, but that isn’t a reason not to make sure she is alright.”

“I’d say it’s the best damn reason in the world,” he said, spooning a large mouthful of lamb into his mouth. “By Gods but this meat is good,” he mumbled through his mouthful.

“It’s very tender,” she said, blowing gently on her spoonful. “I don’t know how you can do that?”

“Do what?” he asked, shoveling another laden spoonful into his mouth.

“That,” she said, nodding at the spoon. “It’s piping hot. Doesn’t it burn your mouth?”

He laughed, “I’m too hungry to notice.”

“Duncan?” she whispered.

“Aye lass?”

“Please can we look for Shannon?”

His eyes shot up from his plate to stare at her.

“You can’t be serious?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m worried about her. She should have been at the farm.”

“And had she been, we would probably both be dead by now.”

“Aye, but that doesn’t change the fact that she might be in trouble.”

“Would she help you if you were in trouble?” he argued.

“You know perfectly well she wouldn’t.”

“Then why on God’s earth would you want to help her?”

“I don’t know,” Eilidh said quietly, meeting his eyes with a pleading look.

“Why risk both our lives with this foolishness? The woman could be anywhere,” he snapped. “She might even have died when she was thrown back.”

“I know all that,” Eilidh said, lowering her eyes to the ground.

“Then why?”

“Despite whatever she may have done, Shannon is still a human being - besides which, I promised her parents, before I left the village, that I would help her if she ever needed it.”

“I won’t stop you from looking for her, but I don’t agree with it. I think you are courting trouble.”

“Do you think me weak for it?”

Duncan shook his head and smiled across at her. “Na, lass,” he said, mimicking his father’s accent, “I could never think you weak.”

In the shadows of the evening light, Eilidh’s eyes betrayed her surprise at his words.

“What makes you think that?” Duncan asked with genuine curiosity.

She lowered her head to stare at the ground. “I always assumed that was the opinion everyone had of me.”

He reached out and tilted her chin with his fingers, turning her face gently, to look up at him. “Hear this, Eilidh, and hear it well. There is no stronger, more courageous act than to risk your own life in an attempt to help another, especially when that other has done nothing to deserve your help.”

As the moon rose, they lay together, staring up at the stars that shimmered and glistened like a million twinkling lights. Eilidh’s head rested on Duncan’s chest. It was a calm, still night, the only sound being that of the soft crackle of the fire that smoldered at their feet, a nearby stream’s babble and Amber’s content snoring.

“It’s such a lovely night,” Eilidh whispered.

“Aye, it is.”

“Do you suppose the others are alright?” she asked, contemplatively.

“I hope so…” he replied.

A few minute’s silence passed as both their minds traced the path they had traveled together and apart. Eventually, their thoughts settled on each other. Eilidh turned to rest her chin on Duncan’s chest. She gazed up and their eyes locked, and in this moment they explored each other’s souls, lost their hearts and surrendered their minds. Eilidh believed that she could never be closer to anyone than she was to Duncan at this moment: This one beautiful, glorious moment when the unspoken vow of true surrender was made. The moment when Duncan lifted his head and their lips softly connected rendered them both still, suspended in time, above reality and beyond complexity, they embraced the moment as if they could remain in it forever.

“I can’t imagine that there is anyone else who feels like this, right now,” Eilidh whispered.

“I hope so,” Duncan replied, “If not, there seems little point.”

“In what?” she asked, solemnly.

“Life, time, us - everything,” he said, with a wave of his hand.

She straightened herself so they were now level. For a few seconds they remained silent, their eyes still locked. Eilidh edged her body slowly closer to his as he placed his arm around her waist, their lips moving closer still. At that right moment, their lips connected again. This time he kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting and urgent.

“Eilidh,” he moaned, his voice thick and gruff. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

“More than I have ever wanted anything,” she breathed, sliding on top of him.

They both knew this moment was going to be special. No matter what happened after this night, their hearts would forever be one; distances would feel like inches, time would evaporate like a snowflake on a flame. The heaviness of their breathing and the pounding of their hearts penetrated the silence of nature’s night, drowning out everything that didn’t matter. Their attention resolute, dedicated wholly to each other, as the warmth of the need in their bodies intensified. Eilidh’s flushed face was soft against his rough stubble, both glowing in the light of the fire. Duncan slid his hands to her skirts, Eilidh pulled the tie of his shirt and ran the tip of her nail down his chest, to the small of his waist and then lower still. The gentle shadow of her body fell over Duncan and disappeared as she bent closer to him. His eyes burned with unveiled passion. She met his look as she drew closer, pressing her lips against his and relaxing against him as he drew her hard against him. Her breast crushed against the solid wall of his chest and a choked moan escaped him as her tongue traced the line where their lips met. His hand slid to the small of her back, forcing her tighter still against him. He rose against her and she shuddered with suppressed need. He pushed her back, his eyes dropping to the swell of her breast. She gripped the muscles of his arms as his hands slid gently over her hips and cupped them with his palms. She swallowed hard and melted against him. Duncan buried his head in the fall of her hair which hung from her shoulders like a curtain of golden thread. He brushed her cheeks with his lips, his breath warm and comforting on her face. Slowly she began to move her hips against him, each movement creating a wild new and exciting sensation deep within her. She clung to him, desperately, as he held her on the brink of release until their bodies and hearts entwined. Eilidh collapsed on top of Duncan. They lay there, silently content in the stillness of the night. Exhausted, they closed their eyes and let their dreams interpret the intimacy of what they had experienced. So far away from everyone who mattered to them, everyone they loved and everyone that loved them, but at that moment, they had each other. They had the moment, they were the moment and what mattered was that their hearts beat as one, in that moment of time.

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CHAPTER 33

North West Highlands of Scotland - 21st December, Modern Day

“What time is it?” Graham shouted. “My bloody watch has stopped working.” He shook his wrist in the hope of jolting the mechanism back to life.

“Half eleven,” Rose replied.

“How is she doctor?”

“Not good, Grace.”

“Can’t you do anything?” Jenny asked, coming to sit beside Rose.

Graham shook his head. “Nothing more than I already have.”

“Why is this happening? Ladies have babies all the time and they are fine.” Jenny said, touching Corran lightly on the arm.

“There were complications, Jenny, things that should have been treated in a hospital, not in a pub and the back of a lorry. There’s hardly enough oxygen in here to keep us alive, let alone a woman who’s just undergone major surgery.”

“Is all this because of my father?”

Grace put her arm around her daughter, lowering her head gently against her shoulder.

“Jen, your father is a bad man and he has done many things he shouldn’t have - but what has happened to Corran isn’t all his fault.”

“Will he find us?”

“No, darling, I don’t think he will now.”

“Rose, did I see you with a beanie earlier?” Grace asked, drawing her daughter closer to her.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag. Why?”

“It’s getting really cold in here. I think we should cover the baby’s head.”

“Yeah, I’ve had him covered with my jacket but you’re right. His head needs something on it.”

“Can I get it out for you?” Grace offered, reaching for the green barrel bag.

“Please,” Rose nodded. “It’s in the right hand pouch.”

Grace slid her hand into the bag and easily located the soft woolen hat.

“It’s going to be ridiculously big for him,” she said, looking at the tiny head nestled against Rose’s breast.

“It’s not going to work, is it?” Grace said, holding the hat up.

“No, mate, I don’t think it is.”

 “I’ve an idea,” Jenny said, drawing herself away from her mother’s embrace and rising to make her way across the lorry.

“Go on then?” Grace said.

“Mum, I’ve got these,” she said, sliding her hand inside the pocket of her jeans and pulling out a chain of safety pins.

“What are you doing with those?” Grace asked, in surprise.

“They were on dad’s desk, at home. I picked them up and made a bracelet out of them. I guess I was bored,” she said, undoing the pins from the chain. “We can use them to resize the hat.”

“Can someone please find out how much further we have to go?” Graham shouted with frustrated impatience.

“Not far. I’ve just spoken to Robert and he said that Simon doesn’t think we’ve too much further to go now,” Rose replied, retrieving a bottle from the warmer. She tipped the teat to drip the milk onto the back of her hand.

“It’s coming, little one,” she said, shaking the drop of milk off her hand.

“He looks silly in that hat,” Grace said, with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but thanks to Jenny he’s warm,” Rose replied, guiding the teat into the baby’s mouth.

Grace fixed her eyes on Corran. “She doesn’t look good.”

“She’s unconscious,” Graham replied.

“You look shattered yourself,” Grace said to Graham.

“Yeah, well it’s been a long day.”

“It’s very stuffy in here too. We could do with some fresh air and heating.”

“In an ideal world, Corran would be in a hospital. Nothing about this is set up is good, Grace,” Graham said, regretting his harshness the moment the words had left his mouth. The simple fact was that, Grace was right. The lack of oxygen in the back of the lorry and the bitterly cold air was doing little to aid Corran’s recovery. Graham was becoming increasingly concerned for his patient and desperately frustrated with the lack of facilities at his disposal. He was under no illusion. Corran was dying and there was very little he could do to prevent it.

“Any idea where we are?” Jenny asked, interrupting Graham’s thoughts.

“Somewhere in the Highlands, I think,” Rose said, with an uncertain shrug. “According to Robert, Simon hasn’t much idea where we are. He’s following the map Eilidh gave him but I don’t think it’s an area he is familiar with.”

“She’s awake!” Jenny cried, noticing Corran’s eyelids flicker and open.

Rose sprang to her feet with the child in her arms and lurched across the lorry to Corran’s side.

Corran’s lips moved but there was no sound from them.

“What’s happening?” Rose said, turning to Graham.

“She’s trying to talk,” he replied, lowering his ear to her lips.

“We’re all here, Corran, you are going to be OK,” Graham said softly.

“Grace… Get me… Grace,” Corran breathed as consciousness slowly returned.

“Mum, she wants you.”

Jenny stepped back, away from the mattress. Grace nudged in closer and knelt beside Corran, taking her hand in hers. Grace gasped at the icy touch of the woman’s skin and turned a startled face to Graham.

He nodded reassuringly at her. “She can hear you, Grace. Just talk to her.”

“I’m here, love,” Grace whispered giving Corran’s cold hand a gentle squeeze.

“Grace,” Corran murmured.

“I’m here.”

“Look after, please…”

“Look after what, Corran?”

“My… My son.”

Grace’s eyes filled with tears and she bit back a sob.

“Don’t talk silly, Corran. There’s going to be no need for that.”

“I mean it…Please, promise me.”

“OK, I promise, but you’ve got to keep fighting. Do you hear me, Corran Campbell? Don’t you dare give up now. This little boy needs you.”

A single tear trickled from Corran’s eye and ran slowly down her cheek. Grace squeezed the lady’s hand tighter, willing her strength and courage.

“His, name is Andrew,” she whispered. “Call my boy Andrew.”

Grace turned her head to Graham, tears now streaming down her face. “Help her, please?” she mouthed, lifting her arm and wiping it across her face.

“Corran?” Graham said, lowering his face to hers. “Can you hear me?”

Corran nodded weakly, “Yes…Doctor, I can hear you,” she spluttered.

“You are not going to die.”

She closed her eyes and drifted back into unconsciousness.

“Shall I take him for bit, Rose? You look shattered,” Grace asked.

“Yeah, go on then. He’s done with this feed but he still needs winding.”

Grace lifted the child from Rose, and gently cradled him in her arms.

Gazing down into his little face, his features started to blur. Grace blinked hard to clear the fog. Her mind drifted into a dream like daze until she was alone, in another time and place. She was running, towards a school field. A rhythmic chant bellowed from a swarm of children, gathering on a school field. Instinctively, Grace understood that a fight was brewing. Drawing closer to the crowd, she made out a flurry of activity in its center. She recognized one of the children, as if he were her own. His name rolled off her tongue and Grace understood that this child was her responsibility.

She watched in disbelief as he casually released an older child from a headlock. The boy stumbled before bending double, clutching his stomach in agony. Without warning, Brody fisted his hand and punched the boy, square on the underside of his chin. His neck snapped, sharply backwards, blood splattered the faces of those watching and he fell heavily to the ground with a bone cracking thud. The crowd let out a stunned gasp. Grace stared in a nauseated daze at the child’s lifeless body. The crowd pushed in around the boy. Brody stepped back, as if to admire his work, before calmly turning and walking away from the crowd. Grace ran towards him and grabbed his arm. He swung swiftly around and for a split second, their eyes locked. She read pleasure and a deep satisfaction in his look, but she saw something else in those blazing eyes. She saw shocked surprise, not regret, but astonishment at what he had done. As quickly as these emotions were acknowledged by Grace, they were gone from her son’s eyes. He reached out for his mother hand and clasped it.

“He started it -” he began.

Grace started to pull the boy away from the field.

“He’s dead!” a boy in the crowd shouted.

Grace, started to run towards the car park, pulling Brody behind her.

“What the hell happened?” Robert shouted, when he saw the bloody mess Brody’s face.

Neither Grace nor the boy answered him.

“Grace, what happened?” Robert boomed, more firmly.

Grace ignored him, knocking the gear stick into first, she drove them steadily out of the car park before pressing her right foot to the floor and changing straight into third and then swiftly into fifth.

“Will someone tell me what happened?”

“It looked to me like a boy died,” the child in the backseat said, gazing out of the window.

Grace glanced in the rear view mirror and watched his face. His look was vacant and disinterested, as if he had just passed a casual comment about the weather. An ambulance tore past them, heading in the direction of the school. Again, Grace watched the boy’s face, hoping to gauge his reaction, but there wasn’t one. He simply watched it hurry past, as if he had no knowledge of its destination.

As fast as the fog had descended on Grace’s mind, it cleared and she was back, in the lorry, with the baby in her arms. She felt as though she had just watched a nightmare, seen her past or glimpsed some terrible premonition.

She glanced down at baby Andrew, at his little button nose and the mop of matted black hair that coiled on the top of his head. Grace knew she had to move past the daydream, past the knot it had left in her stomach and onto the job at hand. A dying woman had placed this baby’s care in her hands and to that end Grace pushed the memory of the dream to the back of her mind.

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