Laird of the Mist (13 page)

― Ye leave in the morning, then?‖ Hamish addressed Carrick from his place across the dining table. ―Perhaps ye would be good enough to bring some medicines for me? That is, if ye can find them.‖
Carrick swallowed a bite of venison stew before answering. ―Of course.‖ He nodded.―We will do our best for ye, Hamish. I only hope we can find what ye need.‖
Glancing quickly at Molly, Hamish smiled. ―Not a problem, Carrick. I consulted with Morag and sorted it out. And ye should have no difficulty locating laudanum.‖
―Good then.‖ Carrick put down his fork. ―Ye will be in good hands, mother,‖ he said to Molly, who was listening intently.
―Oh, aye,‖ she agreed. ―Hamish and I will get along fine. We are old friends, after all.‖ She shot a look at Hamish, who appeared suddenly strained. ―Isna that true, Hamish?‖
―Aye, Molly,‖ he hesitated briefly. He had a strange sensation of déjà vu—as though he had been at this table, sitting next to this woman before. ―Old friends, indeed.‖
―Is everything all right, grandda?‖ Olivia whispered on his other side, as Molly and Carrick continued discussing what needed to be done while he was away. ―Ye look odd.‖
―Not to worry, elf.‖ Hamish squeezed her hand. ――Bit of déjà vu is all.‖
―Seems to be going around.‖ Olivia squeezed back.―I‘ve had a good deal of it myself lately. I wonder what it means?‖
―Probably nothing,‖ he reassured her. ―Eat up, Olivia. Ian will need ye strong when he wakes again.‖
―Aye, he will.‖ She smiled softly. ―The honey will truly work to heal his wounds?‖ Olivia had watched carefully when Hamish redressed Ian‘s ankles that afternoon. He had applied a salve of raw honey to the areas before wrapping them.
―Honey is a natural antibiotic, as I told ye,‖ Hamish said. ―Ye‘ll see how fast he heals now.‖
―What is an antibiotic?‖ Molly interrupted, a suspicious gleam in her eyes.
―Oh.‖ Hamish was caught unaware, thinking her preoccupied with Carrick. ―It‘s a—a medicine against infection, Molly.‖
―Something new from Edinburgh, I suppose?‖ Her tone slightly sarcastic.
―Actually, Molly…‖ Hamish drew himself up in his chair. He knew he was being challenged. ―Honey has been known to prevent and cure infection, among many other healing uses, for hundreds of years. Surely Morag knows this.‖
―Aye,‖ Morag agreed from her place at the table‘s end. ―Honey is a fine remedy. Just not always to hand, ye ken?‖
―Oh.‖ Molly sat back, chagrined. ―Well then, we must take extra care of the hives.‖ She cast her eyes back onto her plate and resumed eating in silence.
―Morag is going to teach me about herbs and remedies while ye are gone, Cat,‖ Olivia broke the uncomfortable silence.
―A fine idea.‖ Cat smiled at her sister. It would, she hoped, keep Olivia occupied and out of trouble for a time. ―And I will try to find ye some paints and brushes if ye like.‖
―Oh, Cat!‖ Olivia cried happily. ―That would be wonderful! There is so much to paint here.‖
Molly looked up at Cat quizzically. ―My wee sister is an artist,‖ Cat explained. ―She came to us without supplies.‖
―A family of many talents,‖ Molly commented carefully.
―I can show ye how to make yer paints and brushes,‖ Morag put in. ―Ye have all ye need right around ye, lass. Berries, flowers, the dyes of nature.‖
―I forgot about that,‖ Olivia said, recalling her small knowledge of how such things had been made in this time. ―It seems there will be a lot to teach me,‖ she replied with enthusiasm.
―And so I shall.‖ Morag patted her hand. ―First thing tomorrow, aye?‖
Oh, aye, Molly thought. Something was not quite right here. The characters and stories matched, true. Everyone and everything looked the same. But it all felt—not wrong—just off somehow. As if you were looking in the glass, but the glass was slightly askew at an odd angle. Probably just weariness setting in, nothing more. It had been a difficult few days and everyone was exhausted. Just her imagination. Still...

They rode for several days, stopping at Inns when they could find one, sleeping under stars when they could not. The spring weather allowed for some comfort, despite the chill at night. Carrick kept a keen watch for signs of soldiers and, as much as possible, kept off the well-traveled roads to Inverness, riding instead through glens and forest. They followed streams which he knew eventually fed into the river Ness and provided camouflage from those who might recognize him.

On the second day, they made a small camp near a rushing burn as dusk began to create shadows in the clearing Carrick had chosen. The trees and shrubs provided enough cover to feel safely hidden. Situated on a small hill, they could see a crofter‘s cottage below with its chimney puffing into the clear evening sky.

They settled onto a granite outcropping to eat their dried meat and hard cheese — a tasty repast, if meager.
―Iapologizefor the cold fare,‖ Carrick said, extendingan oatcake to Cat, who eagerlytook it. She was quite hungry after the long day of riding. ―I dinna wish to build a cooking fire. It could attract attention to us.‖
―No matter...‖Cat swallowed apieceof sharp Highland cheese. ―Thecheese is delicious. Mollyreally does a wonderful job making it. There are definite advantages to owning your own cattle.‖ She smiled at him, his face fading in the shadows of the encroaching night.
―Aye, there are at that.‖ Carrick leaned over and kissed her lightlyon the cheek. ―At least we can keep everyone fed through the hard times ye talk about. Do the bruises pain ye much?‖
Cat put a hand to the cheekbone under her eye. It had been a nasty purple, but was quickly fading into an ugly yellow. ―I hardly feel it at all now,‖ she answered. ―It would look better if I had some make-up to put on it.‖
―We‘ll see what we can find in Inverness. It doesna look that bad, Cat,‖ Carrick assured her. ―And it doesna matter how it looks. Only that it doesna cause ye pain. I swear, if I ever see that bastard again, I‘ll…‖
―Nay, Carrick.‖ She put a hand out to calm him. ―No more violence, aye? Promise me? Best to just stay out of the way and mind our business.‖
Carrick laid back on the rock, his dinner finished. ―I suppose yer right at that,‖ he agreed with a sigh. He opened a small silver flask and took a swig of the whisky from his distillery. ―Here, Cat.‖ He handed it to her. ―Have a wee dram. It will help ye sleep.‖
―Ye say that every night.‖ She laughed and took a sip. The first time she tried it, she had coughed and sputtered it back out again. ―At least I‘m keeping it down now. I‘m actually beginning to enjoy the taste. Grows on ye, doesn‘t it?‖
―Oh,aye,‖ Carrick answered, taking the flask back again and capping it. ―Ye can taste the Highlands in it. The heather, the honey, the waters…‖
―I can taste all of that when I kiss ye.‖ Cat leaned forward and brushed his lips with her own. ―I am learning to savour the whisky the same way I savour yer kisses.‖
Carrick‘s eyes filled with a glimmering mixture of love and passion, tender and intense at the same time. He pulled her quickly into his arms and kissed her more fervently.
―Iwas right to go and find ye,‖ he whispered between breaths. ―Iwill never let ye go, lass. Ye give me life and breath.‖
―I dinna wish to go anywhere without ye, Carrick,‖ she replied. ―Mayhap we should be off to our blankets the now? The sun rises early here.‖
―Aye,‖ he answered, putting a hand up her skirt. ―Let‘s off to the blankets where I can kiss ye properly.‖

It was very late when Cat heard something like an explosion and tortured cries of children in the distance. The moon had risen full above them, and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. She thought she had been dreaming when the sounds filtered into her sleep, but she quickly realized something was amiss.

She put out a hand to find Carrick missing from her side and abruptly sat up. Alarm shot fireworks through her stomach like molten liquid. Cat threw the blanket off and rose to her knees to look for Carrick. Surely the English were not this close? They had seen not a single sign of them so far. But then, perhaps she and Carrick had been begging fate to attempt the trip to Inverness so soon.

She narrowed her eyes and was able to make out Carrick lying on the granite outcrop where they had eaten their dinner a few hours before. Throwing her shawl around her, she made her way to him, stooping as low as she could so as not to be seen.

She heard every crackle of twigs and leaves underfoot amidst the horrible sounds coming from the small glen below. It seemed an eternitybefore she reached Carrick‘s side, shivering with a fear she had never experienced in her own time.

―The Sasunnach,‖Carrick whispered back. ―Staylow, Cat. Idinna think we can be seen, but best to be safe all the same.‖
―How long have they been there?‖
―I dinna ken. An hour mayhap? I woke to the voices. They dragged the family out…something about a fugitive of the rising and a tartan shawl in the croft. I couldna hear it all. They shot the husband—I assume it was the husband—and took him away with them. Then they fired the croft…‖
Cat felt sick in her stomach as she watched the scene below. A woman with a small child and what appeared to be a teenaged boy, huddled together on the ground, looking up at the flames consuming their home. The poor woman was trying to calm the wailing child, while the boy stood frozen, their forms lit by the grotesque firelight.
―Are the soldiers gone? Can we go to them?‖ Cat asked. A desire to run down the hill to offer assistance overwhelmed her. Her solitary thought was a combination of compassion for the wretched family, and bitter revulsion for the Sasunnach.
―Aye,‖ Carrick answered as he rose from the rock and helped Cat up. ―We‘ll go to them the now. But mind ye, Cat. Ye do as I say, ye hear? I needna tell ye…‖
―No, ye needna tell me,‖ she answered quietly, followinghim as theybegan their descent to the pitiful scene below.

They went in sil ence, Cat holding the hem of Carrick‘s shirt in front of her so as not to lose him or stumble on the uneven side of the hill. They slowly approached the woman who was attempting to rise from the ground, still holding the now quiet child in her arms. Her face was bathed in soot, silent tears, and despair.

Caitriona. We are here to help ye. What has happened here?‖
―Ye are the Laird MacDonell?‖ She wiped the side of her face with the dirty sleeve of her blouse.
Alarm suddenly froze her expression. ―Ye must leave, Laird. Ye and yer lady must go from here, before ye
bring more evil upon us.‖
―We want to help ye,‖ Cat broke in. ―We arena here to bring ye evil…‖
The woman‘s face was white with terror. ―Oh, aye, ye will!‖ she exclaimed. ―They took away my
Duncan for his part in the rising. Everyone kens the laird was a Jacobite. They searched the house and found
my old tartan shawl. I forgot it was even there, Laird! That‘s when theyfired the croft and shot my Duncan. If
they find ye here, well…‖
―Nay,‖ Carrick put out a hand to steady her. ―They have gone, lass. Theyhave what theysought. And
we must get ye and yer family to safety. I can well see ye have no oneelse to help ye.‖
―Sir,‖ the boy broke in. He looked to be about fifteen by Cat‘s reckoning. A boy in her own time,
surely. But nearly a man in this. ―I can well help my mother, Laird. We dinna need yer help, I assure ye.‖ He
drew his lean body to stand even straighter, as if proud to take the role of man of the family. Carrick let a small smile spread on his face in reply to the show of the boy‘s pride. ―Aye, I havena
doubt that ye can, lad. What is yer name?‖
―Dougal, Laird,‖ he answered, extending a hand in introduction.
―Dougal, then,‖ Carrick answered, shaking the lad‘s hand. ―Then humor me, Dougal. Get what ye can
and take yer mother and… sister?‖
Dougal nodded in affirmation.
―Get your things and take yer family to Ben Fhittich. Here is my
sgian dubhs
.‖ He pulled the short
knife from the hiding place in his hose. ― Show it to anyone there and tell them I sent ye. Tell them it is my
order to give ye food and shelter until I return from Inverness. Then we shall see what to do about yer father.
Aye, lad?‖
The boy‘s face lit with pride that the Laird himself had trusted him so. ―Oh, aye, sir.‖ Dougal nodded.
―As ye say, Laird.‖
―We canna impose…‖ the woman began.
―Aye, ye can and ye must,‖ Carrick answered her. ―What is yer name, good lady?‖ ―Mary Anderson, Laird.‖
―Well then, Mary. Young Dougal here will get ye safely to Ben Fhittich. The bairn needs food and
shelter, as well, aye? Ye have no other remedy for it, do ye no?‖
Mary considered for a moment and let out a sigh. ―Aye, Laird. As ye say then.‖ ―Good,‖ Carrick ran his fingers through his hair, unruly in the gathering mist. He turned back to
Dougal. ―Come, lad. Let‘s see what we can make of this mess. Cat?‖ He looked back at her standing next to
Mary. She had been silent through the exchange.
―Aye, Carrick,‖ she answered. ―I ken what to do here.‖
Carrick smiled and nodded at her before taking Dougal by the arm and leading him toward the croft.
Perhaps there would be something, anything, this unfortunate family could salvage. For now and the
foreseeable future, Beinn Fhittich would be their home and sanctuary.