by Anne Greene
Fiona bounded back up the path and rounded the corner of the brye.
Cailin followed more sedately.
Fiona found two wooden buckets and a yoke. She hooked the ancient-looking buckets to either end and heaved the long-beamed yoke across her shoulders. “Come, Cailin, I’ll lead the way to the spring.”
Cailin blinked.
Fiona planned to carry the water herself?
Mikey’s long, running steps overtook Fiona, and he lifted the yoke from her slender shoulders and settled the beam across his own wide shoulders. “Milady, allow me.”
Fiona raised her brows and grinned. “I’ve carried many a yoke with brimming buckets of water and milk.”
“Aye, Milady. But ‘twas afore ye became a great lady. Ye must think of yer hands now.”
“Why, thank ye kindly, Mikey.”
He plodded ahead through knee-high bracken, breaking a path for them. The sound of tinkling water led them up a hillock to a clear spring bubbling from the peaty ground. As Mikey knelt to fill the buckets, Cailin breathed in the incredible stillness of the place.
Would Avondale find a measure of peace here? Mayhap she would bring him.
She stood knee deep in a rank growth of ivy and fern bordering the gurgling spring. A single shaft of sunlight glimmered on the crystal running water, clear as a wavy mirror. A lone willow let its green, lacy branches dance in the breeze and trailed its ruffled fingers in the water.
If ever a place held peace, this one did. Yes, she would bring Avondale. She would make a clearing in the overgrowth and spread a lunch for him. But first she must lure him to this spot before he disappeared at the break of day.
Suddenly a tiny voice shrilled, “Fiona!” Not ten yards away, a small lad burst out of short bracken and weeds that Cailin swore could hide nothing larger than a water snake.
“Liam!” Fiona jumped the spring, the end of her long gown trailing into the water, and caught the lad in her arms. Her face radiant, she lifted the bairn into the air. The wind caught her skirts, and billowed them around her and the lad.
More rustling in the underbrush, then a crew of boys tumbled into sight, surrounding Fiona like kittens greeting a mother cat. Grimy, mud-clotted, tattered youngsters threw thin, dirty arms around Fiona’s bright green waist, while others caught her woolen day dress in dirty fists.
Cailin’s heart flip-flopped.
Dirty, smelly, thin and ragged, but blue eyes shining, the tumble of greasy-haired youngsters had appeared as if by magic out of the thick bushes. One, two, three, she counted seven barefoot, bone-thin children with what would prove to be, once they were scrubbed clean, blond hair.
Fiona swung the lad she’d called Liam to the ground and grabbed a tiny, barefoot lass who crawled shyly from the ferns. The toddler tucked a thumb into a badly soiled mouth.
“Baby Fiona!” The delighted Fiona swung around. “She’s my namesake. And the only lass in the bunch.”
She hugged the dirty baby, who clung to her neck with both tiny arms. Huge round tears made white streaks down the babe’s thin soiled face. “Where is your ma?” Fiona soothed the small lass with hugs, kisses, and soft murmurs.
Liam’s big eyes gazed up at Cailin.
“It’s all right, Liam. This is Cailin. She’s Brody’s wife’s sister. You may call her Aunt Cailin.” She shot a questioning look at Cailin.
“Yes, Liam. You may call me Aunt Cailin.” She had thought the children would call her Lady, but she liked aunt so much more. Besides, if soldiers came to inquire at the castle, having the children call her aunty would help protect them.
Liam’s pale, freckled face lit with a grin, showing two missing front teeth. Then once again, he looked too serious and too old for his age. “The soldiers took Ma and Aunty Mary. Both of ‘em.”
Fiona’s stance stiffened, but she kept a smile on her face for the benefit of the younger children, Cailin guessed.
“When?”
“Donna ken exactly. ‘Bout a month past, I think. We been hiding since.”
“Were they hurt?” Fiona asked the question carefully, as if she already knew the answer but hoped she didn’t.
“The soldiers wasna verra nice to them.” Liam looked up at the clouds that were fast approaching, bringing wind and chill with them. His lip trembled, but he caught it between his teeth and straightened his thin shoulders. “They dragged them inside our house and did things they shouldna.” Both hands were fisted at his sides. “Ma and Aunty were screaming for a long time.” Round drops coursed down his cheeks.
Naked fear widened Fiona’s eyes. She had a death grip on Baby Fiona, and the skin on her face stretched tight. She looked close to panic. “Are they alive?”
“Aye. The soldiers dragged them up on their horses. But they were bleeding and crying.” Liam jutted his jaw. “I wanted to go after them, but I had the bairns to take care of.”
“And it was quite a brave thing ye did too, laddie. Ye did the right thing.” Fiona knelt in front of Liam and pulled him into her arms. “And all this time ye’ve been taking care of the wee ones.” She hugged him as if she would never let him go. “I’m so proud of ye!” Tears wet her cheeks.
“Indeed, yes.” Cailin swallowed the bile in her throat. She had to take control. This was no time for tears.
These bairns were cold, hungry, and mourned their mums. She’d ask Avondale what the soldiers did with the Highland women, and maybe they could be ransomed. But for now, she had to take care of the bairns. “We’ve room for all of them inside the carriage. The rain will soon be upon us, and that’s a blessing. Any guards upon the roadway will seek shelter.”
Fiona nodded. Hugging the single baby lass close to her breast, she headed towards the cottage and the waiting carriage. “Aye,” she said under her breath for Cailin’s ears only. “The soldiers will stay nice and dry inside their barracks. They willna be likely to venture out to stop our carriage.”
“Best we leave now, Milady.” Mikey lifted a small lad in each brawny arm, carrying them beneath the yoke of slopping water buckets. His long-legged trot set the pace back to the carriage.
Cailin gently took the hands of two boys who looked to be about four or five.
Liam grabbed the hand of another lad about his age and one a tad smaller. The lads easily caught up with her, and their eyes didn’t stray from her. The two younger boys clutched her hands.
“Everything’s all right now. We’ll take you to my home where it’s warm and cozy and give you lots to eat.” She smiled brightly over the lump in her throat. How could soldiers be so cruel, raping the mothers and leaving the children to die?
“Are ye really Brody’s wife?” Liam panted, his eyes narrow.
“No. My sister is his wife. And he would have come himself, but he is injured.” She couldn’t blame Liam for his disbelief. The price of her boots alone would have fed the family for a month. And Liam appeared intelligent enough to realize that.
“Brody lives inside Castle Drummond. We’re going to take you and the other bairns to live with us there.”
Liam stopped so suddenly, one of the younger lads fell to his knees. “Ye are?” He broke into a run to catch up with the others. Though obviously full of happy news, he didn’t yell, or even raise his voice. The lad hadn’t made certain the bairns stayed well hidden from possible returning soldiers without learning to hold his tongue.
The cold, small hands in hers were caked with dirt and bone thin. She could barely wait to get them inside the shelter of the carriage.
Once they all piled in, it proved a tight, uncomfortable squeeze. And the children did have an aroma.
She ignored the smell. “We’re taking you to a broch not far from our castle where I’ll keep you for a short time until danger from the soldiers passes. Then we’ll move you all into the castle.” She hoped.
Oh, if only her parents opened their hearts to these fatherless bairns.
Eight pairs of bright blue eyes stared at her, not quite comprehending this sudden glimp
se of salvation.
Mikey opened the trap and called down. “I think we best let the calf run free. She’ll slow us down. She’ll find food enough and mayhap another family will care for her. We best get as far down the mountain as we can so as not to get hung up in muddy ruts once the rain comes.”
Eight pairs of bright eyes looked up, and eight small mouths hung open at this voice from heaven that spoke through the top of the carriage.
Cailin nodded. “Please fetch the harp from inside the cottage and store it in the boot with the food we brought. We’ll stop to eat once we reach the wider road.”
Mikey had just slammed the boot on the harp when the first large drops fell. From his weight jostling the carriage she knew he’d hitched himself up onto the driver’s seat. He unset the brake and hailed the horses.
With a jerk that surprised the bairns, who sat round-eyed and open-mouthed, they started on their return trip.
Then the rain slammed against the windows and quickly filled the ruts in the muddy path. How could Mikey see to drive? Each time the carriage slid in the deepening mud during the descent she prayed Mikey wasn’t driving too fast for the condition of the steep, rutty road.
“Ye said Uncle Brody’s injured. What happened?”
She touched Liam’s hand. He sat crunched beneath another lad almost as big as he, his leg pressed against her long skirt. “Brody was rescuing some Highland fugitives the soldiers were taking to the gallows, and they shot him.” At Liam’s startled look, she quickly added, “He will be fine. Just has to mend his wound.” She smiled. “And the three men he rescued are hiding inside the broch for now.”
Liam, eyes wide and gaze taking in the lush interior of the coach, heaved a sigh.
If soldiers stopped them, she trusted God and His army of angels to shelter and keep the boys. And surely Avondale’s name and power would protect them.
With her chin buried in one lad’s matted hair, she remembered as clearly as if it had happened yesterday how on the night of their wedding, Avondale had tenderly wrapped his arms around her. His fingers left a trail of heat when he’d touched her face. And his lips had all but melted her knees from beneath her. She did love him so.
But how would he react when she told him of the children she’d rescued?
She pictured him lying on his elegant bed, so difficult to see in the darkness because he refused to have more than one candle lit. With her arms wrapped around the lad in her lap she wondered what it might be like to see Avondale’s body that she knew only by touch.
The carriage lurched over a huge boulder that the stiff wind must have loosened and sent into the road, jogging her back to the present.
She’d expected the children to be lively, squirming, and asking for trinkets and sweets like the Lowland children she’d ridden with from time to time.
Such was not the case. These children rode with eyes wide and sculpted lips closed. They might be dirty and smelled as if they hadn’t bathed for longer than she cared to think, but they behaved like little gentlemen. Baby Fiona relaxed with closed eyes, her adorable face snuggled against Fiona’s breast.
Even Fiona remained quiet. Her great, lake-blue eyes with their long sooty lashes gazed unseeing, filled with grief. Fiona had expected to embrace two sisters-in-law as well as her nephews and niece. The troubled expression on her young face revealed her thoughts of her sisters-in-law’s fates. Unvoiced questions glimmered behind Fiona’s sad gaze. Occasionally her lower lip trembled.
Cailin had no answers. Were Mary and Jenny still alive? Were they kept as slaves somewhere inside an English soldier’s home, being mistreated in the worst way a woman can fare? Or had they been sold to merchants sailing to the New World? As soon as she got the bairns settled, she would investigate.
But that didn’t stop her heartache. Inside the dark carriage, guilt cut into her heart like the dead weight of responsibility she carried. Her burdensome emotions stole some of her joy at finding these bairns safe. Why hadn’t she come to help sooner?
“Are there any other members of your clan in hiding?”
Liam nodded. “Grandpa.” He shook his head. “The soldiers,” he mumbled. “I don’t know where he is.”
Fear curled up into her heart and wound down to her fingertips, leaving them cold and trembling. Was there no end to the evil Cumberland’s soldiers would do?
The crowded carriage rocked down through the narrow, twisting gorge. Fog clung, thick and soupy, to the isolated stretch of road. Whispering globules of crystal dripped down to cascade off the tips of leaves and branches flashing by their window.
Father, You promised to be a Father to the fatherless and a Husband to widows. I’m taking You at Your Word. If Jenny and Mary are still alive, please protect them.
Steady rain fell harder. The children nodded off, rocked to sleep by the swaying carriage. The atmosphere hung heavy. Dull sounds of horses’ hooves reached her ears. Metal wheels slipped and slid along the narrow pitted road. Over the thudding rain, she heard the straining of leather harnesses, the flap of reins, the rhythmic thudding of hooves, and the occasional snort.
If the soldiers stopped their carriage, she didn’t want to know in advance. She lowered the curtain at her window shutting out the dark sky and slashing rain.
Fiona lowered her curtain as well.
The two older boys by the other windows roused and followed suit. Their eyes grew heavy and their chins fell to their chests. As they plunged deeper into sleep, the gaunt haunted look on their young faces softened into innocence.
Soldiers who imprisoned seven-year-old lads, enslaved their mums, and left the smaller bairns to starve wouldn’t stop to ask questions of two women with a carriage filled with Highland bairns.
She scrunched her own eyes closed.
Surely God spread His sheltering arms around their lurching carriage.
23
Behind Cailin, the drawing room door slammed, making the myriad of candles waver.
Fiona ran to stand before her. “The rain has stopped. Come with me to the broch. I’m dying to see the bairns.”
“But it’s already dark.” Cailin dropped a stitch, stuck the blue-threaded needle into the unfinished baby quilt and pushed back the quilting frame. Still wrapped in her own exciting cocoon, she gazed up. “Why are you animated? Yesterday we visited the bairns for several hours, and they settled in beautifully.”
“I’m most anxious to see Grady.”
“Ah. So that’s what is turning your face pink.” Cailin placed the thimble back on her third finger. “All right. If you like we will visit the bairns again.” But she must see that Grady was moved soon. “You seem far too enamored with the lad.”
“The little ones are happy under Mikey’s wee wife’s tender care.” Fiona smiled her saucy smile.
“Wee wife? Elspeth has to be six feet if she is an inch.”
“Just a manner of speaking, Cailin.” Fiona dimpled. “Do ye…you ken if they are safe.”
“I think so.”
“Aye. For the time being. Those partially broken down, monstrous walls serve as a warm welcoming home. But I’ll breathe a good deal easier after all of them move into the castle.”
If.
Cailin swallowed. She must see that Mums and Papa didn’t harden their hearts against the sweet bairns. But until then, the old broch, which had been built upon the site of a Norman motte and an even earlier Iron Age hillfort, would serve as their home. True, the surrounding wall had mostly tumbled down, but the round stone tower stood mostly intact.
“That ancient stone structure isn’t likely to enter a searching English soldier’s thoughts. But I will breathe easier when the bairns move into the castle. I must talk with Mums.”
“Aye, the sooner the better.”
“Have you seen Avondale?” Blood rushed to her cheeks. Had she spoken aloud? Once he saw the bairns, perhaps he would stay home more.
“Nay.”
Cailin’s heart stuttered. How she prayed Avondale might smile
at her just once in the broad daylight. What was wrong with the man? He acted as though she held him in judgment. He had a sickness beyond her ability, yet she must help him. But he had even begun to avoid her during their times alone at night.
She heaved a deep sigh. Well, she wouldn’t dwell on that. She preferred to hold her good memories close and not ruin them by trying to uncover Avondale’s mystery.
“I’ll carry the torch. Do ye think the bairns need us to bring them anything?”
Tonight she would face her husband and make him explain. She smiled in her secret heart. Perhaps she’d calm his nerves with her lips. When he was relaxed, she would insist he tell her what haunted him. Warmed with her plan, she rose from her chair. “No. Mikey said they are well taken care of. Let’s—”
Hennings entered the drawing room, his bearing stiff and formal. He bowed. “I’m very sorry, Milady. Lord Avondale asked for you. He’s in your rooms.”
Her eyes teared.
Thank you, God.
“Oh, dear, Fiona. I really must rush to him. You go ahead to the broch and see to the bairns.” She smiled and tripped from the room, her light footsteps tapping a pleasant tune on the granite.
Avondale wanted her.
****
Fiona had gotten but half-way across the keep when Avondale stumbled into her path.
His clothes were disheveled. Minus his suit coat, his shirt rumpled, his sable-lined vest half-unbuttoned and one bare foot, he walked with a pronounced limp on the cobblestone.
She turned to run.
Like a bear from a cage, he rushed at her. A low growl vibrated from his throat. Before she could utter his name, he grabbed her arm in his iron grip. She fought to break away. He seized her other arm.
“Let me go!” She jerked and fought and tried to kick him. “Avondale, stop!” She stumbled and turned her ankle on the cobblestones. She gazed frantically around in the dusky twilight. Where was Rafe? She writhed in Avondale’s gasp. Arms aching, she exerted all her strength but couldn’t pull free. Her feet slid on the damp cobblestones.
