Laird of the Mist (22 page)

Olivia‘s wedding was the talk of the glen for days. It had filled her with a happiness that set her and Ian to disappearing together at all times of the day. They seemed a couple deeply in love, and it warmed Cat to watch.

A week passed and Hamish had gone every day to tend to the sickly Fiona, whom he had diagnosed with measles. In an adult, it could be serious and quickly turn fatal.
For once, Fiona was not lying or milking the situation. She was simply too ill. There was little Hamish could do except offer supportive care—aspirin, rest, fluids, and a gentle hand for the miserable woman.
Fortunately, Olivia, Hamish, and Cat had been vaccinated in their own time. Especially Cat, who was pregnant with her first child, for whom it could have had serious consequences. Trying to explain vaccinations to Ian, Carrick, and Molly was a difficult task for Hamish, as they had no real concept of bacteria or organisms. They did, however, understand the needfor Fiona‘s quarantine and isolation from the rest of the glen.
Surprisingly, Fiona had been a relatively good patient. She was eager to be well and on her way back to Inverness, so she obeyed Hamish, if a little irritable at times. Her biggest concern was that her fiancé would worry as to her whereabouts, thinking her delayed in Edinburgh. Hamish assured her that if the man—whose name she had never divulged—truly loved her, he would understand. Fiona seemed to acquiesce to that reasoning.
And so, happy routine settled in at Ben Fhithich. It should have been a warning to them all.

Carrick. His entire countenance was threatening, but Carrick refused to give ground.
―Aye, Robbie. I warned ye time and again. These men here,‖ he gestured to the four standing behind
him, ―are witnesses to yer selling Beinn Fhithich game to the English at Fort Augustus. Do ye dare deny it?‖ Robbie‘s face was purple with rage. ―I never…and ye are evicting me and…what about my wife? My
bairns?‖
―Yer sons are grown, Robbie. Aye, I am sorry for yer poor wife. But ye jeopardize the whole of the
glen. We canna risk having ye here any longer. Ye have until tomorrow dusk to be gone.‖ Carrick was the
authority and he knew and projected it. ―These men will see ye gone. Ye best move, Robbie. Ye have no
minutes to spare.‖ Carrick gave a glance at his men and turned to walk away.
―Ye‘ll regret this, Laird,‖ Robbie yelled after him. ―I‘ll see ye and yers suffer for what ye‘ve done, I
swear it. I curse ye all. Ye and yer bairns to come!‖
Carrick kept walking up the hill to the house. His men would deal with Robbie, keep him under
control, and see him off the lands. But still, he hated curses. A superstitious part of him shivered. He shrugged
it off and kept walking.

‖I appreciate all you have done for me these last two weeks, da,‖ Fiona said, actually humbled for a change. She sat, less imperially than usual,in the grand parlor of Cat‘s former home
Taigh MacHendrie
, sipping tea.

― Yer welcome, Fiona.‖ Hamish set down the cup and saucer he had been holding and looked firmly at her. ―Ye should be fine, but dinna push it, aye? Ye still need yer rest. I‘d not advise ye going off to Inverness for a few days yet.‖

Funny how her illness had subdued Fiona. She had softened a bit, and Hamish had begun to grow almost fond of her. His visits had brought back memories, not all bad, and stirred some paternal feelings from somewhere deep. Their discussions had become less self-involved and perilous on her part—more philosophical and intimate. She confided her past motives, experiences, and thoughts to him, and it had opened a door that had stood between them.

―Yes, da,‖ she answered him. ―I will mind your orders. I don‘t plan to go until Friday next. Don‘t worry. I—‖
The front door crashing open stopped her mid-sentence. She started to rise next to Hamish, who was already on his feet.
―Fiona!‖ a voice cried out, streaked with anger. ―Fiona! Where are you?‖
Fiona‘s face went white, and Hamish could see her begin to shake. In the parlor doorway stood an English officer in his red uniform, his face tight with fury.
―There you are, you duplicitous bitch!‖ he yelled at her. ―Off to Edinburgh, eh? You lying, devious, whore…‖
―Herenow,‖ Hamish brokein. ―Ye have no right talking to a ladythat way!‖
―Lady?‖ He laughed maniacally. ―This is a lady? Not on your life. And to think I nearly made her
my
Lady. My ancestors would have haunted me senseless for that.‖
He turned his hateful gaze from Fiona to Hamish, violence seething from every pore. ―And who the devilare you, you Highland trash?‖
Fiona abruptly sat. She looked about to faint, and Hamish was at her side in a flash, taking her wrist to check her pulse. He turned his grey head to look up at the Sasunnach standing before him. His temper began to rise.
―I am her father, sir. And you are?‖
―Her father?‖ Camden laughed again. ―I pity you then. You bred a witch cat in that one. You should have drowned her at birth.‖ He thought for a moment and began again. ―You are the ailing father she was supposedly caring for in Edinburgh?‖
Hamish straightened, satisfied that Fiona was stable. ―I am her father. I was in Edinburgh.― He read the look on Fiona‘s face, one ripe with terror that said to play along. ―I—uh—I came to Invergarry, because I had word Fiona was quite ill. I am a doctor, ye see.‖
Camden seemed to calm a bit at that, but took up pacing the parlor floor. ―You, a sick man yourself, came all the wayto the Highlands to care for your sick daughter? Idon‘t believe you. Ihave a source that tells me you have been here for months.‖
He wheeled around to Fiona and raised an accusing finger. ―That same source tells me that you are, in truth, Fiona MacHendrie, a Highlander. And that your daughter is Caitriona MacDonell, who is married to the Laird Carrick MacDonell of Ben Fhithich. And Laird MacDonell did not die at Culloden, but is alive and well and running Beinn Fhithich this very day. How do you answer to that, Fiona?‖
Fiona blanched again. ―It is true, Caldwell. But, let me explain…‖ her voice cracked.
―There is no explanation other than you are a lying whore,‖ he spat back at her. ―And as for the noble Laird, I have already set my men to find him. I will see him hanged, by God. And you?‖ He took a few steps toward Fiona, ―You will rot here in the Highlands with your Jacobite family. I was in love with you, Fiona. How could you be so treacherous? Iactually believed that you loved me in return.‖
―But, Caldwell. I did—I do—love you. Please, Caldwell…‖
―Do not address me by my Christian name, woman!‖ he roared at her. ―How dare you be so familiar? I shall never see you again. If I do, I will see you hanged alongside your traitor son-in-law. Mark my words well, Fiona. You are dead to me.‖
With that declaration, Camden gave a final glare at Hamish. :‖ You should have let her die,‖ he shot, and turned abruptly. His boots pounded hard on the entry floorboards. Hamish and Fiona held their breaths tight until they heard the door slam behind him.
When he found his voice again, Hamish cleared his throat and said, ―I assume that was your fiancé?‖
Fiona merely nodded and put her face into her hands. She began to quietly sob.
Hamish went to sit beside her, and put his hand out to her shoulder.
―Dinna worry, Fiona. It will be all right.‖
―No, da. It won‘t. He‘s ruthless. I‘ve seen him.‖ She looked up into his gentle face. ―You must get word to Carrick immediately. He has been kind to me. You must warn him. I can‘t bear to see him hanged. Please, da.
Now
.‖
Hamish was on his feet in an instant. ―Aye, I‘ll go. You will be all right?‖
Fiona nodded and waved her hand, indicating that he should go. ―Hurry, da. Please, hurry.‖

Hamish had rushed to Beinn Fhithich only to be told that Carrick and Cat were gone to the Invergarry Inn. Carrick had business with John, the Innkeeper and Cat wanted the respite and lunch.
―Pray God they will be all right. Pray God the English haven‘t found them yet,‖ he thought as he urged the horse faster. He was too old for this and unaccustomed to horseback. A part of him yearned for his beloved Jaguar. 1746 was definitely for young men, not a sixty-five-year-old retired doctor.
―Where‘s John?‖ her called to the stable boy as he quickly dismounted from the sweaty beast. His hair was wet with exertion and he wiped the drops from his forehead as he called again. ―Have ye seen the Laird, lad?‖
―Aye,‖ the boyfinally answered, taking the reins of the horse from him. ―In the dining room, sir.‖
Hamish headed as fast as he could toward the dining room, his mind fixed on getting to them with the warning. He saw them at a corner table with John and hurried over. He paused to catch his breath.
―Hamish?‖ Carrickimmediately rose on seeing him enter and rushed to his side. ―Are ye well, sir? What is it?‖
―Grandda.‖ Cat joined them. ―Sit ye down. Ye look terrible.‖ She put out a hand to guide him, but he pushed it away.
―Ye must…‖ He was breathing hard. ―Ye must get away. The soldiers…‖
―Soldiers?‖ Carrick cast a quizzical look at John standing beside him. ―What soldiers? The watch dinna call alarm.‖
―The watchis probably dead,‖ Hamish managed to gasp out. ―They were at Fiona‘s. Caldwell Camden is—was—her fiancé. He is going to hang ye, Carrick. Get away now,and take Caitriona with ye.‖
―But, how did hefind us? How did he ken it?‖ Carrick was already moving toward the door, Cat in tow.
―Ithink it was Robbie Colson told him,‖ Hamish answered, following.―Camden said he had a source. I canna think of anyone else.‖
―Damn the man!‖ Carrick swore as they made it into the courtyard. ―John? I recall caves up the path yonder. Am I right?‖
John noddedvigorously. ―Aye, Carrick. Can ye find them, or shall I come?‖
―Stay and keep the soldier‘s away best ye can. Come, Cat, we‘ll go to the caves until they‘re gone.‖
Cat held more tightly to his hand and stayed silent as they began to make their way up the rocky path, Hamish trailing along with them.
As they came to the side of a hill next to a rushing burn, they could hear the sounds of loud voices below them engaged in argument. The soldiers had arrived, it seemed. They continued to climb the path, now steep, in haste. The voices grew louder as Carrick ran his hands along the side of the cliff face, searching for an entrance to a cave.
―It‘s along heresomewhere,‖ hesaid, desperation growing in his voice, his manner. ―Help me find the entrance.‖
Cat and Hamish joined him, pulling brush and shrubs away from the wall to find any sign of a cave. As the voices grew closer, their search grew more frantic.
―They‘re coming!‖ Cat cried. ―Hurry!‖
Carrick pulled back a thick expanse of gorse, bloodying his hand on the thorns. ―Here it is!‖ He motioned to the others to follow him inside as he cleared an opening. ―Ye, too, Hamish. Hurry!‖
Hamish held back and shook his head. ―No, Carrick. I‘ll go back to the Inn. I‘ll make sure the cave entrance is well-covered with the gorse, aye? I‘ll come for ye when they have gone. Go now.‖
Carrick met Hamish‘s eyes in clear understanding of what must be done. ―Aye,‖ he muttered, then slappedhis shoulder. ―Good man. Be safe,‖ he said and ducked into the cave behind Cat.
Hamish restored the foliage over the entrance as best he could, then set out back to the Inn below.