In the Highlander's Bed (17 page)

And then Sarah said to Grace, “Bring your meat to Linnea.”

That was it. Afterward, three of the women volunteered to help sort the food supply and others came up with ideas about what they could contribute. Constance stood in the middle of the chatter, bemused that her words had actually inspired them.

Grace looked to her. “What of you? You can’t be digging in dirt in those clothes.”

Constance looked down at the muslin dress that was hopelessly the worse for wear, and felt strangely buoyed by it. She would miss the sailing of theNovus, but in its stead she’d found a new adventure. “Do you have something I could borrow?”

For the first time, a hint of a smile came to Grace’s lips. “I might.”

“Good,” Constance said. “Let’s set to work.”

Within the hour the camp thrived on activity.

Gordon couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so frustrated. As he suspected, the men hadn’t been drilling while he was gone, and they were listless today, ever since word went out that Malcolm McDowell had deserted. Malcolm had been involved in the Cause long before even he had, and now he was gone, sneaking away like a thief in the night.

The men were losing heart, and Gordon feared that not even the Sword of the MacKenna could raise morale. He’d had to break up three fights today because tempers were short and nerves stretched thin.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. These men could be so headstrong when battling among themselves, but act completely cowed by the English. There had to be a way to switch their attitude around.

His only recourse was to work them doubly hard, but tired men didn’t fight—

“Do you smell that?” Thomas asked, interrupting Gordon’s thoughts.

“What?” Gordon asked, just before he caught a whiff of freshly baked bread.

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“It’s been a long time since I’ve smelled anything that good,” Robbie said.

“And there’s meat cooking too,” Thomas agreed. “Smells like heaven. I wonder whose fire it is?”

At that moment, Anna and Madge, Willie MacKenna’s daughters, came around the bend in the road from the camp carrying a bucket filled with cold, clear water to drink. The men were surprised. The women had never done this before. Usually the men had to fetch their own.

“Is that bread we smell?” Robbie asked.

“Aye,” Anna answered. “Supper is almost ready and we’ve come to invite you to join us.”

“Us?” Robbie wondered.

“Yes, all the women have joined together to cook one meal for everyone this night,” Anna answered.

“And a fine meal it is. Roast hares and bread and those turnips Father brought last week.”

Thomas didn’t wait for an order but started walking the quarter mile back to camp. The others quickly followed on his heels, Gordon among them.

The smell in the air was uncommonly delicious. He couldn’t remember when he’d had a meal that wasn’t some stew boiled to blandness.

They were met at the edge of the camp by two of the wives, Jane MacKenna and Rosie Dumbarton, who informed them there would be no eating until they had washed. The men did as ordered, some albeit grudgingly. Those were the ones who merely dipped their hands in water, while others willingly sought out the mush of soap.

Walking up to the camp from the loch, Gordon found many of the tents and makeshift dwellings relocated. And the livestock had all been headed to the far side of the camp.

Everyone, including Mad Maggie, was gathered around three huge fires that had been situated together in the middle of the camp. Black kettles bubbled with supper. Meat was being turned on a spit by several lads, while loaves of bread cooled on some wooden planks.

For a second Gordon was overwhelmed with thankfulness at seeing, finally, a show of organization. This was wise. It was as it should be.

However, his pleasure turned sour when he caught sight of Constance testing the contents of one pot with a wooden spoon. She had changed into a serviceable brown dress, an apron tied around her waist.

After announcing the stew good, she happily spouted orders that his clansmen hurried to obey with far more enthusiasm than they had shown for anything he’d said in weeks—and an unreasonable anger settled upon his shoulders.

Twelve

Silence fell upon the camp as Gordon made his way toward the campfire, although those close to the food continued to help themselves.

Only Constance seemed unaware of his approach. She was too busy taking Peter MacKenna and Jamie
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Allen, two eleven-year-old lads, to task. The boys were constant troublemakers. The other women, including their mothers, had given up disciplining them, often expecting Gordon to see to the chore.

But not Constance.

“I told you exactly where I wanted those ashes, and you’ll not eat until you put them there,” she said.

“But that means we’ll have to scoop themall up,” Jamie answered.

“Yes, you will,” Constance replied without sympathy. “You should have put them in the bucket I told you to use in the beginning. Then, you’d be eating by now.”

Jamie opened his mouth to protest, then caught sight of Gordon. Angry defiance evaporated from his face and he bowed his head as contrite as a choirboy. “We’ll do it.”

Shocked by Jamie’s easy agreement, Peter glanced up and saw Gordon, too. His head lowered. “We will, miss.”

“Thank you,” Constance said with great satisfaction. “And hurry. There might not be any supper left if you dally.”

Both boys groaned at the unfairness, but Gordon nodded for them to go on and they knew they didn’t have a choice. They went scurrying off.

“There,” Constance said to Emma Reivers, who stood with her hands wrapped in her apron, a worried eye on Gordon. “That went well. See? I told you all those two needed was a strict talking to and they’d behave.” Pleased, she turned—and came face-to-face with Gordon. Or actually, face-to-chest.

He stood with his hands on his hips, expecting her to react. He anticipated some sort of her usual rebelliousness.

What he hadn’t expected was a radiant smile.

For a second he lost all sense of place and purpose. It was as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds.

Her eyes shone with excitement. “What do you think of the improvements, Gordon? I believe we’ve made an excellent day of it. Wait until I tell you what we are going to be doing tomorrow. But first, let’s be certain our new system of serving everyone works.” She didn’t pause for his response, but took advantage of his astonishment and organized the meal.

All he could do, all hehad to do, was stand back and watch.

Her spirits were indefatigable. She herded, cajoled, and ordered everyone to do her bidding. If any of them, especially the women, thought it strange they were taking orders from their captive, they gave no indication of it.

The women had been a thorn in his side even well before the defeat of Nathraichean. Their inability to work together had created untold friction among the men.

Now, it was as if everyone was the best of friends. Even the children were happier and better behaved.

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Gordon gave up counting the number of times in the space of half an hour when he heard the words,

“Constance, what do you think…? Constance, should we…?”

He was witnessing nothing short of a miracle, and he wasn’t a man who believed in miracles. His guard went up.

Constance approached, carrying two plates of food. She’d twisted her braid into a knot at the nape of her neck and recently bathed. He could smell the soap and a crisp, clean fragrance that was all her own.

She held out the plates to him. He didn’t move. Instead, he asked, “What game do you play, lass?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand his question. “You are the one who brought me here.”

“But for a purpose. You’re the captive, Constance.”

“I want to join your cause.”

Gordon could have roared his frustration…except he didn’t know where he’d direct it. Was he more angry that his clansman, and Constance, didn’t take her position as hostage seriously? Or that she seemed better able to lead than even himself? That she understood this type of life and what had to be done?

Or was he angry because seeing her this way brought out a longing in his soul the likes of which he’d never felt before? The yearning for a helpmate, a companion…a wife.

He tempered his tone. “You aren’t one of us, lass. The day will come when youwill leave.”

A line of concern formed between her brows. She glanced down at the plates. The food smelled delicious. “For right now, I am here,” she replied seriously. “And I’ve found that ‘right now’ is really the only time that matters. Here,” she said, again offering both plates. “You need to go find your sister.”

Alarmed, he asked, “Why, is something the matter?”

“You know there is.”

He did. He didn’t evade Constance’s unspoken concern. “We’re not close,” he explained. “She isn’t happy here.”

“You are all she has,” Constance said, refusing to accept the excuse. “If you don’t help her, who will?”

“She blames me for all that has happened. She doesn’t want to listen to a word I say.” Life had changed for both of them, and if Fiona didn’t accept those changes, how could he force her?

He’d used this excuse before. Everyone in the clan had accepted it.

Not Constance. She pushed the plates toward him so he had to take them. “Go eat with your sister. No one else can help her. You owe her an hour.” She didn’t wait for further argument, but turned and went to join the others.

For a second Gordon stood with the plates in his hands, feeling awkward.

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He’d been dismissed. Nor did he have any idea where Fiona was; and even if he could find her, he preferred avoiding her stony silence.

Constance was new here. She didn’t know what she was asking.

Then again, perhaps she did.

And because he wasn’t a coward, because Constance had left him no choice, he went in search of Fiona…if for no other reason than to prove to Constance he was right.

In truth, he did know how to find Fiona. At the edge of the camp he gave a low whistle and listened a moment. In seconds he heard Tad’s bark. Gordon knew that Fiona had befriended the beast. Keeping that friendship between his sister and the dog was usually his reason for leaving Tad in camp during the day.

Tad barked again, and Gordon followed the sound. He found Fiona and the dog at a place the clan called the Cliffs. It was an outcropping of rock overlooking the loch. The children liked jumping into the water here when the weather was warmer. Fiona had her arms around Tad’s neck, hiding from him behind some bushes.

He stopped, a plate in each hand.

The days were shorter now and the dusky light gave them both some protection—and yet, he could tell she’d been crying. She’d cried all the time when she first joined the clan. He had hoped she would grow better.

“I brought supper—” he started.

“I’m not hungry.”

Fiona rose as if embarrassed to be caught hiding and gazed across the loch at some point only she could see. Tad settled down with a happy sigh. He had his two favorite people in the world here, and his tail wagged in anticipation that one of those plates was for him.

Annoyance rose in Gordon’s throat like bile. “How am I expected to talk to someone who refuses to grant me even the most common courtesies?” he asked, speaking his frustration aloud. “I’m your brother, Fiona. We are the only family either of us has left.”

Fiona didn’t move an eyelash. “You don’t need to talk to me at all.”

Usually, this was where he stomped off. This time, because he knew Constance would be waiting, he stayed. “That’s what wehave been doing, Fee. Not talking. Has it made anything better?”

“Nothingwill make anything better!” Fiona snapped, her eyes angry and hard. “This isn’t where I want to be. I once hadeverything . It’s all gone, Gordon. Because ofyou , it’s all gone.”

He’d heard this accusation before. “Not everything is gone, Fee. We still have ourselves. We have our family name.”

“Our family name is linked to a rebellion that is doomed to failure,” she informed him without hesitation.

“The doors that were once open to us are closed. Worse, we have no money. Oh, wait, there is the price
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on your head. What is the bounty now, Gordon? Fifty pounds?”

“About that,” he answered tightly.

“Fifty pounds wouldn’t have paid for one of my dresses when father was alive.”

“I tried to see you safe,” he insisted. “The money I gave Sir Dougal should have covered a closet full of dresses and a dowry fit for a princess. I gave you all that I had, Fee.”

“Except what you needed to plan your ‘war,’” she answered.

“I’m not the one who stole the money, Fiona. I believed Laird McKenna was a good man.”

Her gaze, full of recriminations, slid away from his. No matter what, he knew she would blame him, and perhaps she should. He stood, holding two plates of cold food, a pitiful offering to replace what she’d lost.

Constance was right. He and Fiona had avoided this conversation for too long. He knew what was wrong. He knew he had to press. He set the plates of food down on one of the rocks.

“I’m sorry, Fee.” The words hurt to say. “I failed you. ’Twas not my intention.”

Tension lined her face. She stood at the edge of the Cliffs, looking as if the wind playing with her hair and skirts could blow her away like a milkweed. He remembered when he would come home from school on holiday and she’d be waiting, a chubby toddler expecting him to give her piggyback rides and taking her for walks to the stables to feed her pony…just the two of them. And then he’d gone on and she, too, had grown up and found other pursuits, until here they were—strangers.