“I don’t care what ye have to say. Whatever it is, ye can keep it to yerself.”
“It needs to be said, Cait.”
She stood abruptly, her sewing falling to the ground. Black Cat peeked his head out from beneath her chair and quickly ducked back. “Nay.”
Iain wiped his hands on his breeches and stood as well. “Please sit down.”
“Nay.”
“Cait—”
She sliced her hand through the air as anger surged through her. She didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to discuss anything about John with this man.
“I’ve asked ye several times to leave, and ye’ve ignored me every time,” she said through a tight throat. “Ye’re my chief and ye were John’s friend, but ye’ve sorely overstayed yer welcome here. I have nothing to say to ye about John or anything else, and I wish ye would just leave.”
“I promised him on his dying breath that I would watch over you.”
She laughed, noting the tone of hysteria that crept in. “I don’t want yer protection. I don’t need yer protection. I’m doing fine on my own.”
“You live in a small cottage as far from the main house as you can get.”
“On purpose,” she spat. “I moved this far out on purpose. Ye don’t think its coincidence that I’ve perched myself on the border of Campbell land?”
The skin around his eyes tightened in anger, but she didn’t care if he was angry. She was furious. How dare he come here after four years and tell her what to do and where to live? How dare he tell her that he promised John he’d protect her? She’d not seen him do anything of the sort since John’s death. She didn’t want or need Iain Campbell. Her life was just fine without him.
“Please let me help you,” he said softly.
“Help with what?” she said in exasperation.
“You can have your old home back, the one you lived in with—”
“Good God, no.” She couldn’t bear it, all the happy memories of that place. She’d given birth to Christina in that house and watched her baby girl die in that house. It was where she’d been when Campbell came to tell her John was dead.
“If ye can’t honor my wish to leave me be,” she said, “then I will ask Sutherland to take me in.”
His lips thinned and those dark eyes narrowed.
“I have no ties to the Campbells anymore.” She could just as easily help Sutherland from his land, and he would be happy to have a healer closer to his home.
“You truly despise me, don’t you?”
She looked away. At one time she had disliked the way John worshipped his chief and maybe resented the amount of time John spent with him. Afterward she’d been so insulated by her grief over first Christina’s death and then John’s that she had no room for hatred toward Iain Campbell. The hatred had grown as her grief waned.
“I don’t despise ye,” she said, but she couldn’t look him in the eyes when she said it.
“You don’t like me overmuch,” he said.
“I have a hard time being friendly to someone who has ties to the English like ye do.”
“You can’t believe every rumor you hear.”
“There are far too many rumors about ye to ignore. I can’t believe all of them are false. Ye break bread with the redcoats at the expense of yer men.”
“Are you referring to John’s death? Do you think my…connection to the English killed him?”
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “Did it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been able to prove who killed John.”
“I…I heard ye searched for the killer.”
“I did. For a long while I looked. I wish I could give you a name of the person who shot that pistol. I’d give anything to know.”
“Would it assuage your guilt?”
He drew back. “If anything, it would probably increase it. I think we both believe that pistol ball was meant for me. And Cait?” He waited until she met his gaze. “You don’t know how sorry I am for it.”
She swallowed her tears through a thick throat. She’d not stopped to think overmuch about Iain’s grief or guilt, and while it didn’t ease her own, it shed new light on the man’s suffering.
“I’m no’ leaving here,” she said softly.
Suddenly, the sound of a galloping horse broke the quiet of their thoughts. They looked at each other in surprise. It was late for visitors, but Cait was accustomed to late-night interruptions.
Campbell moved to the window and peered out. His tense shoulders relaxed. “It’s Gavin,” he said as he opened the door.
The horse had barely come to a stop before Gavin, a Campbell lad on the cusp of manhood, was inside the house, covered in dust and grime and breathing heavily.
“Fire,” he said, then gulped in another breath.
Chapter 6
The orange glow lit up the night sky as far as Cait’s cottage. From her vantage point out front, it looked like the entire north field was aflame. After saddling up his horse, Campbell had rushed out with Gavin, a grim look on his face. Before they left, Cait had shoved half a loaf of bread and a small mug of ale at Gavin.
“What happened?”
She spun around to find Adair leaning in the doorway, his arm protectively shielding his belly. “What are ye doing down here?” she asked sharply.
But Adair was looking at the orange sky with a bleak expression. “What happened?” he asked again.
“Fire,” she said. “That’s all I know.”
“Campbell?”
“Gavin came to fetch him and they left.” She studied the horizon with a worried frown. Of course she was at odds with Iain Campbell, but she didn’t want to see him hurt, and she knew him well enough to understand that he would run into that field and fight the flames on his own if it meant saving just a small portion of the fields.
She’d been standing out here a long time, watching the orange sky and thinking of their conversation. Reliving the day of John’s death had been painful, but there had been a sort of cleansing in discussing their mutual grief. She’d not spoken to anyone about it since moving out this way, and in a way it felt freeing to discuss it. Strange that it felt good to discuss it with Campbell, of all people.
“I should go to him,” Adair said.
“And do what? Ye’re not fit for fighting fires. Or even walking.”
“I could command the men.”
She huffed out a laugh. “From yer sickbed? I know men like ye, Adair Campbell. Ye’re no’ satisfied with just giving orders. Besides, ye wouldn’t make it ten feet on that mighty beast of yers.”
“He needs me,” he said.
“What is it with ye commanders that ye’re so loyal to that man?”
“He’s a good man.”
If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought it was John standing in that doorway, speaking those words. He used to tell her the same thing when she asked him that very question.
What did John and Adair see in Iain Campbell that she didn’t? Both commanders were Highlanders at heart, loyal to their country, ready to lay down their lives to keep Scotland free of English tyranny, and yet they allied themselves with a man known to be an English sympathizer.
As with his father and his grandfather and many other Campbells in history, Iain’s loyalty was fluid, easily bought and easily changed. It was the Campbell way. Always had been. When it came to fighting, the Campbells had a long history of taking whatever side would benefit them the most. It was why they were the richest clan in Scotland. Yet most of their coffers were filled with traitorous gold, jewels, and land grants.
“This is bad,” Adair muttered, staring at the orange glow.
Cait waved Adair back into the house. “There’s naught ye can do now but rest and heal. I have a feeling Campbell will need yer services later.”
She tucked a grumbling but exhausted Adair into bed and noted that his fever was getting worse but by no means as bad as it could be. His stro
ng body was fighting it. She left him already half asleep and went back to her kitchen, where she gathered supplies. Adair was unable to help, but she could, and she knew she would be needed soon.
She didn’t have to wait long. Gavin arrived again with a plump young woman who had kind, dancing eyes.
“He’s askin’ for yer help,” Gavin said. “He sent Margie to sit with the commander.”
Cait grabbed the bag of healing herbs and salves she’d put together in anticipation of this moment. She pulled Margie to the side while Gavin devoured another half a loaf of bread and drank some ale.
“The commander is sleeping but occasionally gets it in his head to get up, and he may want to leave. Don’t let him. Also…” Cait glanced over at Gavin, who was happily chewing the bread. He was covered in black grime and smelled of smoke, his black hair gray with ash.
Cait pulled Margie a little farther away. “Don’t put a candle in the window.” She knew this was a strange request and wished she didn’t have to say it, but Margie merely nodded, her expression serious. “Keep all candles from the window,” Cait reiterated, feeling a little foolish. Of course Margie wouldn’t put a candle in the window. But it was Cait’s signal to Sutherland that all was clear, and the last thing she needed was Sutherland’s men arriving with fugitives. If her window was dark, they knew to move on. She hated disappointing them, but she couldn’t accept them if she wasn’t here, and she couldn’t risk Adair seeing them if he got it into his head to wander around again.
“I understand,” Margie said.
“Check on the commander periodically. He’s fighting a fever.”
“If he’s restless, I’ll bathe his head with cool water,” Margie said. “Me ma taught me some healing.”
Cait patted the woman’s shoulder, nervous to leave her patient but also anxious to help Iain. “Come, Gavin,” she said.
Gavin brushed the crumbs off his hands and led the way out. Cait didn’t miss the wink he threw at Margie or the blush that crept up the girl’s cheeks. Ah, to be young again. Sometimes Cait felt like she was a hundred years old when she was not yet twenty-eight. By the time she was twenty-four, she’d buried a child and a husband and been ready to give up on life.
Her mount was waiting for her, apparently brought by Gavin. He helped her up and they were on their way. Gavin set a brutal pace, but Cait didn’t mind. The longer they rode, the more anxious she became, and surprisingly, the more she thought of Iain Campbell. He would take it hard, the loss of such important crops. They’d had a good storm a few weeks ago and a few smaller showers since then, so it wasn’t that the crops were unusually dry. This must have been deliberate.
She heard the roar of the fire long before they reached it. The heat was intense and the smoke smothering. Gavin led her to the big house. It had gone through enough renovations that it more resembled an English country estate than a Scottish holding. It was the way of things, she supposed. Many Scottish chiefs were renovating their homes and moving away from the strong defenses of the past to elegant English-style mansions.
Large windows looked out over a sweeping lawn and curved driveway. The old gatehouse had been converted into guest housing. Cait turned her head away from the south-facing buildings and blinked wet eyes. A whitewashed two-story building sat off to the side, away from the main house but within walking distance. It was bigger than the others, with a flower garden just to the right of the doorway. She knew that a vegetable garden would be in the back. This was where she and John had lived and where Christina had been born. Seeing it now twisted her heart until it physically hurt.
How many more children would have come after Christina? It had taken a long time for Cait to get pregnant, but the pregnancy had been so easy that it had been a joy. Though she’d been unable to conceive again after Christina, she’d always held out hope.
But then John and Christina had died, and all of Cait’s hope had vanished.
Gavin stopped the horses outside the main doors and tossed his reins to a waiting boy, then helped Cait off her mount before handing over her pack. “The injured are inside,” he said, leading the way.
Six were badly burned, and twice that had inhaled too much smoke. She put Gavin to work, instructing him on how to treat the least injured as she went from one person to the next. Luckily, there were no major burns—although a few would be scarred, they would heal well.
Hours later, she arched her aching back and found that the woman wrapping the wound of the person next to her was Ina. Cait paused and for a small moment fought the ridiculous urge to flee.
Ina straightened and their gazes met. Ina smiled shyly. “It’s good to see ye, Cait.”
To her great surprise, Cait’s throat closed up, making it difficult to breathe. At one time she and Ina had been the best of friends. Ina’s husband was a Campbell warrior, and the two women often spent their evenings together while their husbands were away.
Ina looked around the formal sitting room, as if she were uncomfortable looking Cait in the eyes. Furniture had been shoved to the side to make room for makeshift cots. A few women were helping the wounded, but other than that, everyone had been taken care of for the moment.
“It’s devastating,” Ina said, turning back to Cait. “The entire north field is gone. Whoever did this did a thorough job of it.”
“Ye’re convinced it was deliberate?”
“That’s what Kyle was saying when he came in a few minutes ago.”
Kyle was Ina’s husband; Kyle and John had been good friends as well. Foolishly, Cait hadn’t expected so many memories to batter her. “How is Kyle?”
“He’s well, thank ye.”
An awkward silence passed. Cait had nothing else to say to the woman she’d talked with long into the night years ago. They were different now. Cait didn’t have a husband who fought battles or chased drovers or patrolled the land. She no longer had a wee one to run after and hug and kiss and tuck into bed at night.
“I miss ye,” Ina said, her warm eyes soft with compassion. She was a bit plumper now, but she appeared happy. Content.
“Ina—”
“I’m sorry for yer loss,” Ina said quickly. “I…” Her cheeks turned red and she looked away. “I never said that before and I’m sorry about it. Kyle was devastated.”
“Ye don’t need to say it now.”
“I felt bad that I never went to visit after, and then ye moved out of yer home.”
“Ina, please…”
Ina lightly touched Cait’s arm. “I just wanted ye to know. I miss our talks.”
“I have nothing to talk about anymore. I live alone with a cat for company.”
“How sad.”
“It’s how I like it.” Cait awkwardly patted Ina on the shoulder. At one time they had hugged and laughed freely. Once again Cait felt like she was a hundred years old. “Ye take care, Ina. I’m going to find something to wet this parched throat, then get back to caring for the wounded.”
Ina looked like there was something she wanted to say, but Cait quickly walked away. There was no use in resurrecting old friendships when what had bound them together was no longer there.
The great door opened and Iain strode in, looking angry. Cait paused to watch him, unable to understand why her heart thumped in relief to see him upright and uninjured.
Chapter 7
The moment Iain saw Cait, he headed toward her, as if his feet were far ahead of his brain. She watched him warily, but at least she didn’t run from him. That was something, wasn’t it?
“I hear it’s bad,” she said, looking up at him.
He ran a tired hand through his hair, thinking of the relentless hunger of the flames that had reached at least seven feet as they devoured his crop. “We managed to contain the damage to the north field, but it’s gone. All of it.” All of the food meant to feed the livestock over the winter.
“Oh, Iain.”
His gaze raked the room, taking in the wounded. There were more than he liked to see but fewer than
he’d expected.
“It’s no’ as bad as it looks,” she said, apparently reading his mind. “Most of the burns aren’t serious.”
“They shouldn’t be here at all.” He shook his head at his negativity. He was extremely grateful that Cait had agreed to help. “I apologize. Thank you for coming. As soon as…Well, as soon as I realized how bad it was, I knew I would need your talents as a healer. I appreciate that you were willing to come.”
“Of course I would come. Ye needed me.” She cleared her throat. “I mean yer people needed me.”
“We all needed you.”
She looked away, a pink flush creeping up her cheeks. “They’re saying it was deliberate.”
He turned his thoughts away from her pink cheeks. “I don’t want to believe it, but I think so.”
“Ye’ve made many enemies over the years. Do any of them despise ye so much they’d burn yer crops?”
The activity of the makeshift hospital swirled around them, but for Iain it was as if they were all alone. Such a strange sensation, this unexpected pull toward her.
“Do ye have everything ye need?” he asked.
“I brought my own salves, and the women have been providing bandages and extra sets of hands. Gavin has helped as well.”
“Gretchen is the housekeeper. Just let her know if you need anything. I need to get back to the field.”
She pulled at his sleeve and frowned down at his arm. “Ye’re hurt.”
He was surprised to see that his shirt had a burn hole in it, with a long strip of angry pink skin showing through the hole. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.” She tugged on his sleeve to have him follow her, but he dug his heels in. “I need to dress the burn.”
“There’s no time. I have to get back to the field.”
She took a firmer hold on his sleeve and dragged him across the room. To his chagrin, he followed her.
“Ye leave that to fester and ye’ll have worse problems.” She pushed him onto a small bench that he felt sure he’d never seen before. “Roll yer sleeve up,” she commanded.
He complied, smiling inwardly as he did so. He enjoyed it when she became dictatorial. It amused him when so few things these days were amusing.
Campbell's Redemption Page 4
