by Julia London
“Aye, perhaps no’,” Rabbie agreed. “But if they come round again, they might find the captain hanging from the tree on the cliff above the rock. Good riddance, I say. The fewer Sassenach in our glens, the better we are for it, aye?”
“Rabbie!” Catriona scolded him. “You speak so ill of the very place our mother was born.”
Rabbie shrugged. “She’s a Scot now,” he said unapologetically. He paused to examine the woodwork around the mantel. “She is loyal only to us.”
Catriona snorted. “Donna be barmy, Rabbie. Come on, then. We’ll go, Cailean,” she said cheerfully and moved to quit the room, Fabienne trotting behind her. “Our mother bids you come to supper soon!” she shouted back at him.
“Aye, I will,” he muttered. He scarcely took notice of his sister’s departure. His mind raced—Daisy and her family had to go. At once. Rabbie would never hang a man, but Cailean wouldn’t put it past half the men in these hills.
“What ails you?”
Startled, Cailean looked at Rabbie. He hadn’t even noticed his brother had not followed his sister. “Pardon?”
Rabbie’s eyes narrowed. “You donna look yourself, Cailean.”
“No. It’s early yet,” he said.
Rabbie smiled wryly. “I rather thought it was too late,” he said.
Cailean looked at him in bafflement.
“Forget her, lad. She’s no’ one of us,” Rabbie said, and with a slight shake of his head, he walked out, following after Catriona.
When Cailean reluctantly followed, Catriona was already on her horse. Rabbie mounted his, then lingered a moment, studying Cailean before spurring on after his sister and the guards.
Cailean stood at his door and watched them go, until their horses had gone over the rise and he could no longer see them. Then he turned his head and looked to the east, in the direction of Auchenard. He didn’t know what he’d say—all he could think of was kissing her, in truth—but they had to go. Now. As soon as possible.
He whistled for Fabienne and went inside.
He could just as easily send a messenger to Daisy, for what was the point of prolonging their acquaintance? It served only to torment him.
And yet there was a stronger part of him that couldn’t let her go without seeing her one last time. It was a part of him that felt strangely unsettled and disturbingly wistful.
In the end, he determined he must go for the sake of the lad, if for no other reason.
His decision made, he rambled about his house, changing coats and neckcloths, studying his waistcoat and buckskins and plaids. It was barmy, all this dithering. Quite unlike him.
At last, with the gift he’d purchased for Ellis at the feill tucked under his arm, Cailean put himself on Odin’s back and headed for Auchenard.
It was interesting how a bright day could cast a light on a neglected hunting lodge and make it seem almost bucolic, what with the smoke curling out of the chimneys and the lawn cut and tidied. On Odin’s back, Cailean trotted down the drive, slowing to a walk when the butler came out to greet him. He came down from his horse and handed the man his reins. “Tapadh leat,” he said. “Is your mistress about, then?”
“Yes, my lord,” he said. “They are on the lake just now. If you’d like to wait in the great room, I will send Mr. Green—”
“No, thank you,” he said. He didn’t want Daisy to find him anxiously waiting for her like a suitor. “I’ll walk around, aye?” he suggested and walked on, going around the side of the house to the garden. He was surprised to see so many blooms—he’d not have thought it possible to bring it back after a few short weeks, but the roses seemed to be flourishing. Fish, she’d said that night she lay in his arms. Her roses liked to feed on fish. Roses, blue thistle, catchfly and wild orchids had shown their heads, nestled in beside the wild-growing primrose. From the branch of a crab apple tree hung wooden chimes that tinkled in the afternoon breeze.
It was strange how present she seemed in this garden, even now. He could see her in her soiled dress, that long braid of tangled hair and the grimy wide-brimmed hat. Never had she looked lovelier than she did in here.
Cailean touched the fragile petals of a rose; a few of the petals fell into his hand. He rubbed them between his fingers. She’d been here only a short time, but he couldn’t imagine Auchenard without her now.
The sound of laughter awoke him from his ruminations. He dropped the petals and lifted his hat, running a hand over his hair, then went out to meet them.
His appearance on the terrace as they climbed the steps startled them all. Daisy’s eyes sparked, and she smiled tentatively. Diah, but why must she look so ravishing? Her gown, a rich red, was not as overly adorned as some of her others, but framed to perfection a body so familiar to him now. She was as bonny to him as any woman had ever been, and he couldn’t take his eyes from her, uncaring if anyone else noticed.
In fact, he hadn’t even bothered to see who accompanied her, but when Mr. Kimberly discreetly cleared his throat, Cailean noticed that the entire family, as well as Spivey, was assembled. Ellis had in his possession a very large stick.
“My lord,” Daisy said and walked forward, her smile deepening now, her eyes shining at him. Cailean would never understand the workings of a woman’s mind—one minute cross, the next disappointed, the next vibrant and happy. Perhaps she’d made her peace with her situation. Perhaps she and Spivey had come to their understanding. All the more reason for them to go.
“Arrandale! Good to see you,” Mr. Kimberly said, striding forward, catching up to Daisy, his hand extended. “Very good of you to come. You are welcome sir, most welcome.”
“Thank you,” Cailean said. He looked at Daisy and swallowed. Something sharp sliced through him. “Lady Chatwick, how bonny you are this afternoon.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I had not expected to see you again, my lord. What a surprise.”
“You’ve no’ managed to rid yourself of me yet,” he said and let his gaze slip over her before turning to her cousin. “Miss Hainsworth,” he said, inclining his head. “You are to be commended, aye? I saw the painting Alpin McBee purchased. You are a skilled painter, you are.”
“What? Oh! Thank you,” she said, blushing furiously as she sank into a curtsy.
He glanced at Spivey, who stared coolly in return and offered no greeting. “Captain,” he said and turned his attention to the lad, who was eagerly waiting his turn.
“Feasgar math,” he said, offering his hand. “Good evening, Lord Chatwick.”
Ellis took his hand and gave it a hearty shake, so vastly different from the one he’d given Cailean the first time he’d met him. “Look,” he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing two stones.
Cailean peered down at them. “Ah, the bloodstone, is it?” he said. “Do you know that Highland warriors once marked their bodies with it? They believed it made them invincible.”
“They did?” Ellis said and stared down at the stones. “Have you come to stalk?” he asked. “Might we find the red stags now?”
Cailean forced a smile and put his hand on Ellis’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “You’re too eager, lad. The stags will no’ come down from the hills before the verra end of summer.”
His face fell. “But...we’ll be gone soon.”
“We canna hasten the natural progression of things, can we? You must come again, aye?”
Ellis didn’t answer; he looked down at his rocks, hiding his disappointment.
Cailean squatted down beside him. “Look here, now,” he said softly. “I’ve brought you something.”
“You have?” Ellis asked.
“Aye,” he said and held out the bundle to him. Ellis didn’t take it immediately. “Och, have you no’ received a gift, then?” Cailean said laughingly. “Take it, lad. Open it.”
“Is it a d
irk?” he asked suddenly, taking the bundle from Cailean.
Cailean laughed. “No. You’ll have no need of a dirk in London, will you?”
“Come in, come in,” Mr. Kimberly said, his hand on Ellis’s back. “We’ll have a look at the gift and indulge in some fine brandy I purchased at Balhaire,” he said, ushering them all inside.
In the great room, Ellis went down onto the floor with the package and untied the twine that held it together while the butler poured brandy. Spivey, Cailean noticed, refused his.
Ellis folded back the cloth and picked up the first item: a sporran made from a hare’s skin.
“What is that?” the captain asked.
“A sporran,” Cailean said.
Ellis put it aside and picked up the next item—a small plaid. He gasped with delight and scrambled to his feet, holding it up, then trying to wrap it around his waist.
“I’ll show you how it’s done,” Cailean said and demonstrated how to fold the plaid, how to don it. “You’ll need a belt, then. And it’s a wee bit long, but you’ll grow into it.”
“I rather doubt he’ll have need of that in London, either,” Spivey said dismissively.
Daisy looked appalled. “It’s wonderful,” she said to Cailean. “Thank you. Isn’t it lovely?” she said to her son, pushing him toward Cailean.
Ellis looked at Cailean, and his lower lip began to tremble. Clutching the plaid to his chest, he suddenly launched himself at Cailean, throwing his arms around his legs and burying his face in Cailean’s side.
Bloody hell, the bairn was weeping.
“Stop that,” Spivey admonished him. “It’s unbecoming.”
“I’ve one last thing for you, lad,” Cailean said quickly, and he put his hand on Ellis’s back, patting him. “A wee secret shared only among Highlanders. But I must offer it to you in private...if your mother doesna mind?”
Daisy shook her head. He turned Ellis around to the door and moved him briskly along, out of the great room.
Thankfully, no one followed.
He marched Ellis down the corridor and out into the portico, and there he knelt down and looked him in the eye. “Let’s have it, then. What ails you?” he asked, squeezing Ellis’s shoulders. “Highlanders donna cry unless they have good reason.”
Ellis looked to the ground. “I don’t want to go,” he said miserably. “I want to stay here, at Auchenard. With you!”
A Diah. “That would be my wish, too,” Cailean said. He put his arms around Ellis and hugged him tightly. He was surprised by the amount of affection he held for this child. He felt sympathy for his shyness, sympathy for his uncertainty about where he stood in the world.
He slowly pushed Ellis back. “Do you know what keeps me, then?” he asked.
Ellis shook his head.
“That I know you’ll come back, aye? I hang all my hopes on that, I do. You’ll come back to Auchenard. You will, Ellis Bristol.”
“I won’t,” Ellis said tearfully into Cailean’s shoulder. “Mamma will marry him, and I will be in England.”
Cailean closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the same sorrow that Ellis felt, along with a generous dollop of regret seeping into him, filling him up.
“You’ll be back, lad. I feel it in my bones, aye? You’ll reach your majority before you know it, and then Auchenard will be yours. And then you might come whenever you please.”
“But...” Ellis lifted his face from Cailean’s shoulder. “But what about you?”
“Me?” He smiled. “I’ll be at Arrandale until I die, will I no’? I’m a Mackenzie, and did you know, then, that I’ll take over for my da as the laird of the Mackenzie clan? I’m a Highlander, a Scotsman, and there is no other place for me but the Highlands. Just as there is no other place for you but England. But we are neighbors. We will always be neighbors. Rest assured that when you come back, I’ll be right here, just over those trees, waiting for you to come round and tell me of your adventures.”
“Do you swear it?” Ellis whispered.
Cailean held up his hand. “I give you my word as a Highlander and a Mackenzie.”
Ellis nodded. He rubbed his hand under his nose. “Thank you, Cailean,” he said. “For my plaid and...” He gulped down his tears. “And for being my friend,” he said, his voice breaking.
Cailean rather thought it was he who owed the boy his thanks. He would never have children of his own, but Ellis had given him a brief glimpse of what might have been, and for that, Cailean would be eternally grateful.
He stood up, roughly wiped the tears from Ellis’s upturned face, and then leaned back to look him over. “Aye,” he said, nodding approvingly. “A strong highland lad if ever I’ve laid eyes on one.” He patted Ellis on the back. “We best return to your mother lest she think we escaped.”
Ellis drew a breath so large that his shoulders lifted with it, and then he clutched Cailean’s hand in one hand, his plaid and sporran in the other, as they reentered the lodge and made their way to the great room.
All eyes turned toward them as they entered the room, and Ellis went straight to his mother, who wordlessly held out her arms to him. He walked into them, his head down. Over the top of her son’s head, Daisy smiled gratefully at Cailean.
“Will you stay to dine, Arrandale?” Mr. Kimberly asked.
“No, thank you,” Cailean said. He could hardly sit about and watch Daisy and Spivey dining as if they were already married. “But I’ll have a word with you and the captain, if you please.”
“A word?” Spivey snorted. “I can think of nothing you might have to say to me.”
For a moment, Cailean reconsidered warning the pompous bastard that his hide was in danger. But he glanced at Ellis and smiled. “You might be surprised, then,” he said.
“A word about what?” Daisy asked, looking between the men.
“Ellis, go with Cousin Belinda now,” Mr. Kimberly said, gesturing to the door.
“I don’t want to,” he protested. “I want to stay here, with all of you.”
“You heard your uncle, boy. Do as he tells you,” Captain Spivey said. He didn’t even look at Ellis when he commanded it.
Had it already come to this? Was Spivey already dismissing Ellis from his sight?
“Come dearest,” Miss Hainsworth said, taking his hand. “Would you like to try your plaid?” She put a protective arm around Ellis.
Cailean gave Ellis a smile and a conspiratorial wink as he moved past, and then he turned his back to the lad’s exit and looked into the fire. He was astonished that he couldn’t bear to see the lad leave. And he was appallingly and unduly bothered by that. He was not a sentimental man—he was the sort to say farewell and never look back. But watching Ellis leave the room, knowing he might never see him again, was much harder than Cailean could have anticipated. He had a sense of foreboding for the lad, an unease that he would crumble under the scrutiny of a man like Spivey. Ellis needed a man to see him, to really see him, to help guide him. Cailean feared he’d be shunted aside, sent off to school, left in the shadows, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Madam, perhaps you ought to accompany your son and allow the gentlemen to speak,” Spivey said.
The captain aggravated Cailean. He acted as if he owned Auchenard, as if he were already married to Daisy and was her lord and master. However, he did wish Daisy would leave the room. He didn’t want to frighten her.
But the Daisy he knew was not one to take instruction from men. “No,” she said defiantly. “If it has to do with Auchenard, I must hear it.”
Spivey pressed his lips together and looked at Cailean. “What is it, then?”
“An English man-of-war was spotted near Tiree just south of here,” Cailean said, his gaze locked on Spivey’s.
Spivey shrugged. “What of it?”
“A man-of-war never comes this far north on the eastern shore, aye? There are many in these hills that believe you might have something to do with it.”
Spivey snorted. “Had I known of this den of thieves, I would have summoned them. But I didn’t. I came here as a free man. Is that all you have to say?”
“No,” Cailean said calmly. “It is my best advice that you all leave as soon as possible. That is, if you donna wish to hang.”
Daisy gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth and she stared wide-eyed at Spivey.
But the captain merely chuckled. “That is a capital offense, Mackenzie. Would you add that to your other crimes?”
“I didna say me,” he said evenly. “But there are other men who would see a Stuart on the throne and the Sassenach banished from Scotland. They wouldna worry so much about a capital offense, as there is no one here to catch them save their own, aye?”
“Oh my God,” Daisy said. She pressed both hands against her abdomen.
“We’ve arranged passage on a ship that has not yet returned to port,” Mr. Kimberly said, looking concerned.
“Go to Skye,” Cailean said. “See Irving MacDonald in Portree. He’ll see you safely to England. Tell him I’ve sent you to him.”
“But...but what of Auchenard?” Daisy asked. “We’ve not found a caretaker.”
“I’ll look after it,” Cailean offered. “Until you come again.”
“Do you really think Lady Chatwick will be free to return here?” Spivey asked. “She’ll no doubt have more children, and her responsibilities to Lord Chatwick are such that she can’t simply summer here.”
Cailean looked at Daisy. She looked, he thought, a little ill. “We are different in the Highlands. If we want something, we reach for it,” he said to Daisy. “Our...circumstance does no’ prevent it.”
“Daisy, dearest,” Spivey said laughingly. “Don’t listen to what this man says. He means to unnerve me, that’s all. You’re in no danger here. Personally, I find it impossible to take the advice from a free trader.”
“Aye, so would I, were I you, Captain,” Cailean said calmly. “But even a free trader would no’ risk the lives of women and children, would they? You best heed me.”
