“And what of yer Godfather? I was on the receivin’ end of his tongue the other day by the stables, was I nae?” Hamish asked, and Evie nodded.
“Ye were, but his bark is worse than his bite. He is like a toothless old fox, but far kinder. He believes all the old stories, of course, but he is more forgivin’ than the others. ‘Tis my mother who would be hardest to convince of yer merits, indeed, I doubt she would ever be swayed into thinkin’ that ye are a good man, Hamish MacBryde,” Evie said, and Hamish sighed.
“I daenae care what any of the others think, be it good or bad. The same is true of my father, his wrath would know nay bounds if he discovered I had met with ye. But soon I am to be Laird, and then we shall see what will be,” Hamish said.
Evie glanced up at the sun, which had now passed down from its zenith, and the autumnal afternoon was drawing in. The shadows were lengthening, and already, they had covered the hollow of the stream where they were sitting; it would begin to grow dark soon, and the moorland paths would become treacherous, an easy place to become lost, even when you knew them well.
“Perhaps we should be getting’ away now,” Evie said, looking sadly at Hamish, who nodded.
“Though I could sit here with ye into the night, ye are so easy to talk to, Evie. I daenae know why I was nervous of our meetin’ like this today,” Hamish said, but Evie just laughed.
“Because ye thought for a moment that I would hand ye over to my father. ‘Never trust an Elliott,’ was surely what ye were told as a child. Just as I was told never to trust a MacBryde, but it seems now that we must trust each other, Hamish MacBryde for we are in too deep nae to,” Evie said, and she stood up, dusting off her tunic and looking up at the sky above.
“So, we are to meet again, ye and I?” Hamish asked, and she nodded.
“In three days? Here by the stream at noon?” she suggested, and he smiled.
“I will dae my best to be here, and I shall think of nothin’ else until we are together again,” he replied, and she gave him a bemused look.
“Have I enchanted ye that much, Hamish MacBryde?” she asked, and he turned a deep shade of red.
“I … only … well …” he began, but she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, smiling at him and then hurrying off along the path down the stream.
“In three days,” she called back, “and I shall look forward to it too.”
Hamish stood for a moment in some disbelief. He had never expected her to kiss him upon the cheek. It felt quite strange but awakened in him a sudden intensity of feeling such as he had not felt before. A surge of desire, the desire to know her better, to be close to her, and to share his feelings with her.
I daenae even feel guilty, he mused to himself, knowing that he had crossed a line of no return and opened within himself a set of feelings which could never be undone. As he hurried back across the moorlands towards the MacBryde Castle, Hamish’s mind was fixated upon one thing and one thing only, the face of Evie Elliott. He knew that it would be a long three days before he saw her again, and until that point, his heart would ache with longing.
Three days is nae so long, he thought to himself, but as he approached home, he knew that the wait would be nearly unbearable, for Evie was everything he wanted and more. The affairs of the clan seemed trite and unnecessary, and his betrothal to Isabella a terrible mistake, and as he waited for their next meeting, Hamish could think only of Evie and the desires which she aroused.
Chapter Eighteen
Isla eyed Evie with suspicion, though it was hardly an unfamiliar look. Evie knew that her mother had every right to be unforgiving and to hold a grudge against her and that until she earned her trust, the cloud of suspicion would remain. Isla was right to be suspicious of Evie, as she entered the Great Hall an hour or so after she had bid farewell to Hamish.
She tried to adopt a casual and disinterested tone, fussing over the dogs and helping herself to a cup of warm milk from a man over the fire. Her mother failed to greet her, sat as she was at the spinning wheel, and she watched as Evie slumped in a chair by the fire and made a pretense of warming herself.
“Ts’ growin’ chillier by the day, mother,” Evie said, and Isla nodded.
“Aye,” she replied, threading wool into the wheel and beginning to turn the wheel.
“I wonder when we shall have the first snows? Perhaps within a week or so, dae ye think?” Evie continued, still trying to sound as casual as she could, though knowing that she had always been a terrible liar.
“Aye, soon perhaps,” her mother said, her head now bowed over the spinning wheel.
“And where are father, Rory, and Owen?” Evie asked, and now her mother sighed and looked up, fixing Evie with something in between a scowl and a look of exasperation.
“Questions, questions, Evie,” she said, shaking her head, “ye daenae like it when I question ye, dae ye? Yer father and yer brothers have gone on the business of the clan. There are reports of northern clansmen on the roads east towards Lanercost. It seems we are surrounded by the enemy. We may need to increase the soldiers along that road, for if the monks are nae free to go about their business, then we shall all suffer for spiritual want.”
“Is uncle Duncan in danger?” Evie asked, a note of concern in her voice, for she loved her uncle dearly and the thought of he or any of the other kindly monks coming to harm filled her with dread and foreboding.
“Nae if we secure the road. It would be a true devil who attacked a monastery of peaceful men at prayer. I would expect as much from the English but nae from the Scots,” Isla replied.
“Then it seems our enemies surround us on every side,” Evie replied, pondering her conversation with Hamish earlier that day.
“Aye,” her mother replied, returning to her spinning, as Evie sat gazing into the fire.
“They wouldnae attack us here though, would they? I mean, the castle is strong, it would take a mighty host to breach its walls, surely? The MacBryde castle is nothin’ like this, ‘Tis nay wonder that they sided …” she began, but her mother looked up in anger, and almost sent the spinning wheel crashing to the ground as she leaped up, turning upon Evie who shied away from her.
“Enough mention of such things. This castle has kept our clan safe and strong these many years past, but ye know all too well what happened to my dear parents when the Armstrong castle was burned to the ground. Stones and battlements will only protect ye for so long, Evie. ‘Tis men who must fight if the cause is to continue. That is why I wish for us to have nothin’ to dae with our enemies, dae ye hear me?” her mother said, and Evie nodded, fighting back the tears in her eyes and knowing that it was better to make no reply and certainly no argument with her mother when she was in such a mood.
“I hear ye, mother,” Evie replied, and her mother nodded, sighing and settling herself back at the spinning wheel.
Evie thought better of remaining in the Great Hall and wished her mother goodnight, receiving no response. The castle was dark now, and she had only the light of a candle to make her way up to bed with. In her chambers, she looked out across the dark moorlands beyond. The mood was high, and a canopy stars twinkled overhead. In the distance she could faintly see the glow of lights from Lochrutton, and on a distant hill across the borders, a fire was burning, the slightest glow breaking the darkness of the landscape.
She wondered what Hamish was doing, as she readied herself for bed. Perhaps he was being berated by Isabella or sat before the parlor fire with his dogs resting on his feet. She felt sorry for him, subjected as he was to the constraints of who he was and whose company he kept, but more than that, she felt a sense of longing for him.
Evie had never been in love before. She did not know what it felt like, though she had heard enough about it to know that this may well be it. Her friend Caitlin had fallen in love with a soldier who went off to war when they were younger. His loss a bitter blow to her heart, but Evie had never had such feeling in her heart, nor had she desired them. Love was not something she soug
ht.
But maybe it finds ye on its own, she mused, as she pulled the blankets up over her and prepared to snuff out her candle.
But Evie could not stop thinking about Hamish MacBryde. She pictured him striding across the moorlands and the way he looked at her as they spoke, a sense of longing in his eyes. One which spoke of desire, but more than that a tenderness. The tenderness of a man who risks his life to save a woman in distress and risk it again to see her. Evie had always been a good judge of character, she had a way of knowing the truth of what others were thinking, something she believed she had inherited from her father.
There was no doubt in her mind that Hamish MacBryde was unhappy with his lot, but could she be the one to change that? If Isabella discovered their liaisons, then surely much trouble would come of it. But how could Hamish maintain the façade of a relationship with Isabella, when surely, he was deeply unhappy in his betrothal?
Enough of this, she said to herself, blowing out her candle and rolling over.
Outside, the wind was picking up, and it whistled around the keep, a draught coming into the room. The fire sputtered in the hearth, and an owl hooted in the distance, but very soon, she was asleep, her dreams filled with thoughts of Hamish and the fact that they would soon see one another again.
Chapter Nineteen
The snows came as Evie had predicted, and by the time that the appointed day of the meeting had come, the moorlands and heathers were covered in a thick blanket of snow. More appeared to be coming, and the skies were grey and foreboding as Evie made her way down to the Great Hall. The sun would make no appearance that day, but she was determined still to see Hamish and had arranged with her Godfather to take one of the horses down to Lochrutton to be shod. It would be easy enough to pretend that she had waited at the blacksmith’s forge but instead, she would hurry back across the moorlands and collect the animal later that day.
“Ye cannae take the horse in this,” her father said, as Evie helped herself to porridge.
“The horse will walk well enough. Sweeney says the poor beast needs new shoes, else he will suffer more. I daenae mind the walk, ye know that father,” Evie said, settling herself down to eat.
She knew that her brothers were watching her, and her mother remained silent as they ate. She would not let a little snow stop her from seeing Hamish, for it had been the only thing which had kept her spirits up these days’ past. Her mother was barely speaking to her, and her brothers had kept up their constant suspicion, even to the point of checking she had gone to bed when she had claimed to do so and instructing the soldiers on the gate to be diligent over her movements. She felt a prisoner in her own home and if she had not cared for the castle at Kirklinton before then, she cared even less for it now.
“Dae as Father tells ye, Evie,” Rory said, and Evie scowled at him.
“Ye are my brother, Rory, nae my shadow. I daenae need ye to watch me all the time. I have a fair mind to go and stay with Uncle Duncan at Lanercost until all this business has settled down. I feel like a prisoner here in this castle,” she replied, throwing down her spoon in anger.
“Yer uncle Duncan does nae need yer presence there, lass,” her father said, and her mother nodded.
“Let her go to Lochrutton if it will keep her quiet and preserve the peace,” Isla said, and Rory let out an exasperated groan.
“Always out, always here and there, searchin’ out business that does nae concern her. When are ye goin’ to learn, Evie? Trust must be earned, it cannae simply be handed back on a silver platter,” Rory said.
“I was nae aware I had so dramatically lost that trust, Rory,” she replied, and her brother shook his head and returned to his porridge.
The rest of their breakfast passed tensely, with barely a word spoken, and Evie was glad to finally take her leave and make her way out into the courtyard.
It was cold, a biting wind in the air, and the threat of further snow hovering over the moorlands. Her Godfather was by the stables, and he nodded to Evie as she hurried over to him.
“Are ye sure ye …” he began, but she shook her head impatiently and made her way into the stables.
“Daenae ye start, I have had enough bother convincin’ my father that I should be allowed to go,” she said, and Sweeney laughed.
“Dae, they say the snow lies too think on the moorlands for a lass to take a horse across?” he asked, and Evie nodded.
“I am a prisoner here in this castle. They would all gladly keep me locked away forever if they could, I am convinced of it,” she said, patting the horse’s mane.
“Well, he needs shoddin,’ and I would suggest that ye tell the smithy to dae all the hooves, that way, he is ready for winter. I am sure yer father will want to ride out enough and by the skies ‘Tis to be a harsh season,” Sweeney said, as he led Evie and the lamed horse towards the gate.
“What time of day dae ye make it, Sweeney?” she asked, and he smacked his lips together and furrowed his brow.
“Time of day? Well, there is a question. ‘Tis hard to tell when the sun cannae be seen. But first light came around eight O’clock, so I would suggest ‘Tis now around ten, though it hardly matters what time it is. I go by my stomach. When it rumbles, ‘Tis time to eat and when ‘Tis full ‘Tis time to sleep. That has seen me through life well enough,” her Godfather replied, and he sent her on her way through the open castle gates and down towards the village.
“If ‘Tis growin’ dark and he has nae finished the shoes, then ye are to come back without the animal,” he called after her and Evie nodded.
“Aye, I promise I will. Daenae worry, Sweeney. I have learned my lesson,” Evie said, and without waiting for his reply, she hurried off down the track, knowing that she most certainly had not done so.
Chapter Twenty
Her father had been right about one thing, and that was the fact that walking through fresh snow, particularly over the open moorland, was far from easy. Evie was struggling and the horse even more so. She had determined to leave it with the smithy, hoping that he and her father’s paths would not cross, so as idle conversation might not give her away. She would meet Hamish at the appointed time and return later for the horse, which, if the shoddin’ were complete, would bring her home just as the shadows were lengthening and her father was beginning to worry. There, she could make the simple excuse that it had taken longer than she hoped, and the suspicions of her family would be allayed.
“Come now, lad, walk a little faster will ye?” she said to the horse, who whinnied obstinately and dug his hooves into the snow, as she attempted to pull him along.
In this manner, they continued towards Lochrutton, with Evie watching the sky above for any sign of the sun breaking through the clouds. But the grey blanket clung about the moors, and by the time she reached Lochrutton, Evie estimated she had been walking for nearly an hour so that noon was fast approaching.
“The shoes?” the blacksmith asked, as she brought the horse into the smithy.
“Aye, all of them. Can ye dae them by nightfall?” she asked, and the old blacksmith shook his head.
“Yers, the priests, another Musgrave foal. I cannae shod them all today, and ye are the last to bring yers to me. Leave the animal here, and I will see to him. But return here tomorrow to collect him,” the blacksmith said, and Evie nodded.
It suited her purposes well enough; she would tell her father that she had waited for some time, but when it became obvious, as her Godfather had said, that the animal would not be ready, she had returned home. She thanked the blacksmith and made her way hastily out of the village, following the path up onto the moorlands, which gradually disappeared as the snow became thicker.
Come on now, ye can find the path. There is the tree in the fork and then straight across the heathers, what ye can see of them anyhow, she said to herself, making her way hastily in the direction of the Armstrong castle.
There was no one about, the track from Kirklinton had been deserted, and in the middle of that snowy moorla
nd, she could have been quite alone in all the world. There was an eeriness to the scene, and a silence quite unlike at any other time of the year—the silence which comes with snowfall. Not even the hawk circled above, waiting for its prey. It seemed as though every creature in the border country had taken refuge in a nest or burrow to begin the long and unforgiving winter hibernation.
The fewer that see me, the better, she thought to herself, still glancing around for any signs of her father or brother.
But the moorland was deserted, and it seemed her plan had worked. After struggling through the snow, which had started to drift as the wind picked up, she came in sight of the ridge from which she would be able to see the stream below. Her heart began to race, her excitement building at the prospect of seeing Hamish once again.
A Highlander Born From Chaos (Highlanders 0f Kirklinton Book 2) Page 13
