Shaking his head, Da picked up his cup and took a long drink. “Dinna fash yerself about the Campbell family now. It’s not anything like that.”
Everyone relaxed at that, a breath of relief seeming to sweep the room. Eating resumed with ease, the earlier happiness of the evening quickly warming them once more.
“What’s botherin’ them, then?” Laoghaire questioned, helping herself to another biscuit.
“It seems someone has moved into the old shack just up the mountain. They think it’s a young lass, but none of them are willin’ to get close enough to find out for sure. It’s right close to the border for one thing, and as for the other reason—”
“They think she’s a witch,” Alastair piped up, grimacing as his father frowned at him. “Sorry, Da. I dinna mean to interrupt ye. Little Jamie from across the way passed through the pasture this morning and told me about it. He was taking bets on how long it would take someone from the church to send a witch hunter to question her.”
“Hush yer mouth!” Laoghaire scolded him, rising from her seat. “We know nothing about the lass! There’s no sense in spreading such a vicious rumor without knowin’ the truth of it.” All the same, she glanced out the window, toward the direction of the old, abandoned hut up the mountain, and flicked her fingers, making the sign to banish evil.
“I thought only witches lived by themselves, though.” Rowan spoke confidently, smiling as he looked around the room. “Spell casters and old maids.”
“Well, she’s no old maid, from what I’ve been told,” Da muttered, raising his glass for another drink.
“And just what do ye want me to do about it?” Will asked incredulously. “March right up there and ask her if she’s the Devil’s bedmate? If she were, she’d curse me right on the spot!”
“And if not, she’d likely slap him across his face,” Laoghaire added, nodding in agreement. “He can’t walk up to a stranger and accuse them of something like that.”
“I dinna want him to do any such thing,” Da replied easily. “It will put everyone’s mind at ease to know that someone went up and spoke with her, though. The lass is new to the area; perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to invite her down.”
“And I suppose ye want me to find out why she’s alone and what business she has moving into a house that’s barely standing anymore.” Pursing his lips, Will watched as his father confirmed his suspicions with another nod.
“If there’s going to be one more mouth to feed this winter, she needs to help with the work. I dinna care if she’s here, so long as it doesn’t rile everything up, ye ken?”
“Aye, I understand ye well enough.” Taking a drink of his own milk, Will thought it over for a moment before answering. “I’ll go up and see what I can find tomorrow. What shall I take with me, though? I can’t be showing up with nothing but a basket of questions.”
“Take some of the honey,” Laoghaire replied, thinking quickly. “We can easily get more and it will be a fine, welcoming gift.”
“It’s settled then. We’ve been making due without ye in the fields for a few days now. One more will be fine.” Da smiled, leaning back in his chair.
“Soon ye’ll have yer own family to take care of and work for in the fields.” Laoghaire smiled warmly, settling back into her chair. “Fiona will make ye a fine wife. Yer little ones will be a sight to see, too.”
“Maw.” Will groaned slightly, trying not to roll his eyes.
“What? I’m excited for grandkids. Yer twenty-three years old. I thought I’d have them well before now.”
“I sincerely apologize for not engaging in acts of fornication and giving ye grandchildren earlier, but I had it in my mind to wait for the right lass. Since she hasn’t shown up yet, I assume ye’ll just have to wait.” He did roll his eyes then, looking to his father for backup, but was met with a knowing stare instead.
“I know ye wanted to marry for love, Willy,” Da said softly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Yer mother is right, though; Fiona is a fine young woman and will be the best of wives. I’m sure, in time, ye’ll learn to love her.”
“I understand,” Will replied roughly, looking down at his plate. “We are a good match. There isn’t much anyone else for her to marry, unless her mother wants to send her away. She needs someone to take care of her and their family has been missing its head since her father died. I wouldn’t have agreed to the arrangement if I didn’t think it would be good for everyone involved.
“I’ll be close to home, where I can help still if needed. We can combine our livestock and gain a higher profit when we take them to market. I . . . I enjoy Fiona’s company as well.”
Truth be told, he found her boring. She had no apparent interest in anything he did and was often found pouting beside the fire over something insignificant. The life he imagined with her was a frustrating one, with little joy. But, as he’d so often seen, love did come in time to such matches. Perhaps, as the years went on, he would find her personality endearing and feel a love for her grow in his heart.
His speech didn’t really seem to convince his father, but Laoghaire’s face shone with happiness as she looked at him.
“Fiona MacDonald is one of the finest women I’ve ever met,” Alastair added, blushing slightly. Rather than follow the statement up, he grabbed his cup and gulped down a swallow of whiskey, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“I think she’s stupid.”
Hastily converting his laugh into a cough, Will watched as their mother launched into scolding Ro for being rude, lecturing him on everything from honor and manhood to respect for the trials a woman faced. The sermon was lost on the young boy, though. His eyes glazed over, his attention clearly diverted along another path.
Slowly, dinner finished, Da retiring to his study while Maw cleaned up. Rowan was put to bed with much protesting and Alastair excused himself to go check on the newborn calf and its mother. Left alone, Will found himself on the front step, the dogs resting their heads in his lap as he stared up at the night sky.
What do I do? He asked the stars silently. The prospect of a marriage to Fiona did not excite him at all, nor did any marriage, really. He had truly wished to wait until he fell in love, but there was no way for that to happen. He would have to leave home, abandon his family, and hope that he would find his woman somewhere out there. What if she simply didn’t exist? No, there was no way he could betray his family’s trust in him like that, or disregard his honor so easily. When Da died, he’d become the head of the family. If he was off gallivanting across the country, they would have nothing. Fiona’s family would have nothing. The whole community would suffer under the burden of having to take care of what should have been his.
“Ye look like a man staring at the gallows, son.”
Looking over his shoulder, Will smiled tightly at his father, watching as the man came and sat beside him.
“What’s bothering ye? Fiona?” Concern covered his features, his hand resting lightly on Will’s shoulder as he looked at him. “Is marrying her really that bad of a prospect for ye?”
Shaking his head, Will looked back up at the sky, not sure what to say. The heavens sparkled with such beauty and size, he was suddenly struck with a feeling of insignificance. “It feels like life is getting the better of me, ye ken? Like I’m missing something important, but I don’t ken what it is.”
“What can I do to help?” Da squeezed his shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Maybe ye need some time away, to find yerself?”
“What do ye mean?”
“I’ve been hearing that some young men are going to France for a year or two, to work for the military. We would miss ye here at home, but if it helped ye at all, it would be worth it.”
Shocked, Will pulled away from him, gaping as he absorbed what he’d been offered. “But, I canna do that! We can’t afford it, Da. Traveling to France would take lots of money and I wouldn’t be able to help with the farming or selling the livestock. Besides, what about Fion
a? I canna just leave her without a single care when she’s expecting to marry me in a few months’ time.”
“If it helped ye, it would be worth it to me. We would get by without ye, truly. Alastair already does more than his fair share. He’d learn the things I’ve been teaching ye about running the house and such easily, if anything were to happen to me.”
The look on his father’s face was so sincere and kind, it made Will want to hug him tightly and thank him for everything he’d ever done. Instead, he sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“I canna. I only want to do the right thing and choosing myself over the needs of others . . . it isn’t honorable. My own issues aside, I’m needed here. I will deal with my decisions and their impending consequences with grace, Lord willing. Thank ye, Da. Truly. It means a lot to me that ye would offer, but my family comes first. Per mere per terras.”
“By sea and by land,” Da repeated, the MacDonald clan motto giving the discussion an air of finality. “Yer a good man, Willy. I dinna know why the Lord in His goodness decided to grace me with such a child, but I’m glad he did.”
“There’s no one else I’d want as a father.” The chilly air suddenly felt too emotional for him and Will laughed, embarrassed, looking back up at the stars. Thinking back to their earlier dinner conversation, he quickly changed the subject. “Do ye have any advice for how to greet a lass who may be a witch?”
“I’d start with a nice hello, if it were me.” Patting him on the shoulder again, Da rose, quietly letting himself back inside and leaving Will with his plethora of thoughts.
Three
The chilly morning seemed to wrap around William as he nudged the horse up the hill, away from home. It had rained in the night again, coating the earth in a wetness that seeped into everything it touched, the air’s icy fingers gently caressing his skin and bringing a wave of gooseflesh in their wake. Fog hung heavily around the mountains, hiding their path from view, the dim light of sunrise just barely peeking out on the horizon.
Clearing his throat roughly, he sniffed, tugging on the reins as the horse hedged, clearly unhappy to have been woken and brought out of what little warmth the barn had offered.
“Come on then, Arth,” Will urged, guiding the animal forward. “The sooner we get up there and investigate, the sooner we’ll be back home and filling our bellies. It’ll warm up enough once the sun is up.”
Arth stared at him evenly, snorting, as if to say he wanted nothing to do with the witch on the mountain. Will couldn’t blame the beast; he didn’t want much to do with the woman, either. Still, someone needed to go find out why she was here and what she wanted. Da couldn’t do it, not when they were trying to get the crops planned for the year. Besides, it was time Will take on some responsibilities of running the household. No one had said as much, but he could tell it was time. Maw was right—he’d be in charge of his own family soon enough. Now was as good a time as any to set out and make sure they were all safe.
Pulling his tartan around him tighter as the wind swirled slowly by, Will felt a gratefulness for the breeches Maw had patched for him a few weeks earlier, their warmth doing what they could against the elements. By the time the sun rose in full, he’d probably regret wearing them as they stifled him with heat, but, for now, they were a godsend.
Slowly, they made their way up the mountain, the sounds of early morning wrapping around them. Birds chirped overhead as the wind turned into a soft breeze, warm rays of light shining down on the open plane, grass tickling the underbelly of the horse as they passed through. The sweet smell of damp earth filled Will’s nose, sending him into a comforting, relaxed state. Once again, he was at his own private communion, visiting with the earth and all she had to offer, under the watchful eyes of God and His goodness.
As they neared to boarders of the clan lands, Will slowed their pace, caution filling him. As it stood now, his own particular branch of MacDonalds lived on the mainland. They weren’t like the other parts of the family, with whole islands to control and call their own. No, they lived between a wealth of other clans, always careful to watch that they didn’t take what wasn’t rightfully theirs. The border in the north was shared with the Camerons. To the west, the Stewarts and Macleans reigned, and on the east, the Menzies. That left the Campbells in the south, with their dangerous aggression and untrustworthiness.
Did the witch know she had settled herself in such a precarious place? The hut on the mountain had been left abandoned for a reason. Not only was it damn hard to get to, but it was literally on the border of the Campbell lands. Some had even argued that it was technically owned by the neighboring family. Should anyone decide to lay claim to it, the woman would find herself in the middle of a very distasteful situation.
Shaking his head, Will put the thoughts of the feud away. It wouldn’t do him any good to be focusing on other issues when he arrived. Reaching behind him, he touched the hilt of his sword just in case, though. It was concealed beneath a wrap, tucked away with some extra food and the honey Maw had given him to bring. Most likely, he wouldn’t have to use it, but it was comforting to know he had it, all the same.
Trees with newly budded leaves swayed over him now, the ground rocky in spots and covered with the roots of plants that refused to be uprooted by stone. There was still a touch of snow here and there, lingering in spots where the sun didn’t touch as much. An eerie quiet permeated the space, causing his skin to ripple more than the cold had.
Suddenly, Arth stopped, nostrils flaring as he pawed the ground, his muscles twitching nervously. Looking around for what had startled his ride, Will saw nothing, the beat of his heart increasing tenfold at the sudden change in atmosphere.
“What?” he asked the horse, trying to calm the animal as he continued to search for the source of panic.
A high pitched scream filled the air, the sound traveling from just ahead of them—from the direction of the old hut.
Jumping from the horse’s back, Will grabbed his sword and ran the rest of the way up the overgrown path, frowning as what sounded like fighting reached his ears. As he rounded the last bend, the cabin came into view.
The roof was partially caved in, the long branches of the trees around it weaving together overhead, dipping down and punching through the rotting thatch. On the same end, the stone wall had fallen, the rocks scattered across the ground. Still, it was clear that someone was living in the ruins. Smoke gently trailed from the chimney on the intact side, a roughly put together, wooden door sitting open. The scent of breakfast oats hung lightly in the air, briefly reminding him of his own hunger. A makeshift fence led out from the side of the house, the assorted branches and ropes ringing a tiny garden, where the dirt had obviously been worked through at some point. Footprints marked the mud all over and a water trough rested under one of the trees, a long, white piece of linen resting in the branches, drip drying.
Shouts came from inside the hut, along with the clanging of dishes and crashing of objects. Readying himself to join the fray, with the worst possible scenarios running through his mind, Will stepped forward, taking in a deep breath to shout his arrival to whomever was inside. Before he could utter a single word, though, a man was catapulted through the entryway.
Sprawling across the ground, the man coughed, clutching his side in pain, eyes wild. It appeared he had tried to rob the shack; his sporran had popped open during his flight, spraying silverware, candlesticks, and all other sorts of little trinkets across the ground. Among them, a beautiful, emerald broach rested, smeared with mud during its landing.
Recognizing the blue and green color of the man’s tartan as that of a Campbell, Will winced. It was never a good day when a Campbell got mixed up in your business.
The same, high pitched scream from before sounded in the house and Will turned his attention there, clearing his throat once more. Whatever was going on here was about to end, one way or another. However, before the words had even formed in his mind, a second Campbell appeared in the doorway, his face
bloodied. With a shock, Will realized the screaming was coming from the man.
Clutching his nose, the second man tripped outside, grabbing his counterpart by the arm and hauling him to his feet.
“Did ye think I’d let ye get away that easy?” a woman’s voice roared from inside, an Irish lilt present in her speech.
“Run, lad!” The second Campbell took off like the Devil himself was after him, not even bothering to look and see if his friend was following. He was, limping slightly as he peered back over his shoulder.
In the doorway of the hut, the woman appeared, her red, curly hair tied back in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, stray strands surrounding her face and sticking to her skin. Rage covered her angular features, a large, wooden hammer at least half her size gripped in her fists. The brown fabric of her dress hugged her slim torso tightly, the full skirt ripped down one side and revealing her shift. Dashing from inside, she held the mallet up, yelling angrily as she chased the would be robbers down the road. As she caught up with the limping Campbell, she struck him in the side again with her weapon, in a surprising show of force. The man cried out, stumbling, but continued on, disappearing around the bend.
Will felt as if he’d been struck over the head with the woman’s hammer as well. Staring openmouthed, he watched as she continued to shout at her assailants, standing in the middle of the road as their forms faded away. Finally, when the men were no longer in her sight, she turned, resting the hammer over her shoulder as she walked back to her home.
She was bleeding; he hadn’t noticed that before. He’d been so caught up in how fierce she’d appeared, he’d immediately accepted that she was a warrior in her own right. The blood must have seemed like a natural appearance to him, as did whenever he’d seen men returning from a fight. Now that she was calmer, though, he could clearly see the red liquid running down her chin, from a cut somewhere in her hairline.
Taken Away_A Swept Away Saga Origins Story_A Scottish Highlander Romance_The Swept Away Saga Page 2
