A Promise for Tomorrow

by Michele Paige Holmes

“Then you understand how I’ve felt twice now, seeing your life hang in the balance.”

  “Aye.” He kissed the top of my head and held me tighter. Neither of us spoke for a long minute, content and grateful to be feeling each other’s heartbeats.

  Collin lessened his grip just a little, leaning back to look at me. “I don’t see how we are to accomplish all of this, just the two of us.”

  “We’ve more than the two of us. Heaven is on our side and will be so long as we are trying to do the right thing, for the right reasons. I’m just not certain killing Brann falls into that category.”

  Collin grunted. “I’m fair certain it would feel right to me. It would mean you’re safe.”

  “From Brann, but what about his council? What about Ian?” I wrapped my arms around Collin’s waist and held tight, lest he had any ideas about releasing me. He’d reached out first, so I felt it all right to call a temporary halt to our vow not to touch. Our argument deserved remorse and apologies with at least as much passion as the words we’d flung at one another.

  “Ian.” Collin sighed. “I’ve half a mind to take you from this place and leave Brann to face the consequences for your lost dowry.”

  “He and Ian might take care of our problems themselves. They might kill each other.”

  “A possibility.” Collin nodded, rubbing his chin across the top of my head. “But Ian is still my brother and the MacDonalds still my clan. I cannot abandon them.”

  He practically had already, choosing to come with me to claim my Campbell heritage, instead of returning to lead the MacDonalds. Leaving them in Ian’s care did not sit well with either of us.

  “We are right back to where we began with our problems.”

  “It does seem that way.” Collin took my shoulders and held me away from him. The lines on his face relaxed, and the hard look in his eyes softened. “I am sorry to have frightened you, Katie.”

  “You’re the one who said you were frightened.” I tried to tease away the moment or felt certain I would either kiss him or burst into tears from wanting to so terribly and having come so near to losing that privilege forever.

  “Back in the hall you weren’t afraid?” His brows arched in disbelief.

  “There are not enough words for how afraid I was.” Reluctantly I allowed my hands to slide from his waist. I shook a finger at him. “And if you ever scare me so much again, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Collin’s mouth quirked in the slow smile I so rarely saw. “Is that a promise?”

  “You’re not amusing.” I put my hands on my hips and mustered a fierce glare.

  “No? Well, you are.” He was still smiling. “There is more than one way to die, you know. Some, I hear, are very pleasant.” He brushed his thumb across my lips as unmistakable desire flared in his eyes. Then he spoke words I’d longed to hear. “If we survive long enough, I’ll fully expect you to make good on your word.”

  Chapter Ten

  Pinching the tip of my nose, I stifled yet another sneeze. Two hours in the musty room hadn’t led us to much except dust. Careful not to stir up any more than necessary, I opened another ledger, this one from 1752, nine years earlier, when my grandfather had still been alive and I had been living in England. Starting on the first page, I ran a finger down the columns that recorded how much and what had been planted that year. A dozen pages further and the entries changed to amounts harvested, monies earned at market, and rent collected. The ledger was just like those I had already looked at, with profits down from the previous year.

  “Nothing in this one,” I said to Collin, seated across the table from me. “Barley, rye, potatoes, turnips and the like, none of which seemed to provide much of an income for the clan.”

  “That seems to be the pattern of it.” Collin didn’t look up from the book in his hand, his own fingers busy tracing the ledger. “Yet from this accounting, more was planted every year.”

  “Supply and demand?” I guessed.

  “I don’t think so.” Collin shook his head. “Most of what was grown was used for the clan itself, but some was traded or sold in town or with other clans. Those numbers should have remained consistent, or at least fluctuated up and down, depending upon the year.”

  “Apparently 1752 was a poor one. Rationing must have been so strict that they even recorded some of the game they shot. ‘Red Fox shot a week past.’” I read the entry of the twentieth of February. “Is fox good eating?”

  “If you’re hungry enough.” Collin gave a derisive grunt. “Had it a time or two before. It makes for a long meal— lots of tough chewing. Soak it in brine first, if you’re ever unfortunate enough to have to prepare it.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” No fox meat. I catalogued this with the other culinary tidbits—uncooked oats are disgusting, and fish long dead are not good eating— that I’d picked up from Collin over the past weeks.

  He looked up suddenly, a peculiar light in his eyes. “What year did you say that was?”

  “1752. Here.” I pushed the volume toward him across the dusty table, accidentally tipping an inkhorn in the process. I jumped back in my chair, anticipating the spill.

  “Not to worry. It’s dried.” Collin picked up the bottle, shook it, and tipped it upside down. Not a drop came out. “Whoever Brann found to replace Edan obviously did not care much for the position.”

  “I’d be surprised if he came here at all.” Instead of propping my elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear what Collin might have discovered, I sat primly in my chair, taking care to touch as little as possible.

  After a moment of studying the book he looked up. “Red Fox was no animal, but a well-known and unpopular Campbell.”

  “What has that to do with declining profits?”

  “Perhaps nothing— or maybe everything. Like your grandfather, he worked closely with the English. He was a frequent visitor here, and the two were great friends. Red Fox had the unfortunate responsibility of collecting taxes from clan leaders. And it was often he whom the English tasked with removing Jacobite families from their homes to make way for those who’d supported the king.”

  “No wonder he was shot,” I said, half feeling sorry for the man, and half loathing him.

  “The interesting thing,” Collin said, “is that the English suspected he was a Jacobite sympathizer. Your grandfather was suspected as well. If the English were right that may account, in part at least, for the decreased profits.”

  “How so?” And what had that to do with our search for the dowry? After staring at so many entries and figures my head was beginning to ache, and nothing Collin was saying seemed to make sense.

  Instead of answering, he began reading the 1752 ledger. “Amount planted, date, harvest...” He mumbled to himself as he scanned the pages. “Clan allotment, taxes, sent to market—” He pushed aside the other books, then used his finger to scribble numbers in the layer of grime on the table.

  “Just as I thought.” Collin circled the bottom number of his calculations with flourish. “It’s not all accounted for. There’s a difference between the total amount that was harvested and the sum of what was used here and what was sent to market. It doesn’t add up.”

  “You’re saying Grandfather did something else with some of the crops, but there’s no record of it?”

  “Aye.” Collin sounded excited. “The English suspected Red Fox of helping those families he had to displace. If he did, someone would have been supplying him with the means to do so.”

  “Grandfather.”

  Collin nodded solemnly. “He wasn’t a Jacobite sympathizer; he was a human sympathizer. It didn’t matter to him which side of the battle you’d been on, only that you were a good Scotsman and did what you could to further your country and people from then on. If those suspicious of Red Fox were right, he was doing both of those things, and it makes perfect sense that your grandfather would have been in league with him.” Collin bent his head to the book once more. “According to this, Red Fox was shot on St.
Valentine’s Day. Another martyr, perhaps. I doubt anyone will be memorizing his name and story through history.”

  “I am glad to learn of it,” I said. “The story of a Campbell who perhaps gave his life while helping others lessens the sting of the horrible things done by my family.”

  “As should knowing the man your grandfather was.” Collin closed the book and set it aside. “If he was indeed aiding those displaced families, it was at great risk to his own life.”

  “Why would the English be bothered that he’d helped?” I asked. “It wasn’t doing anything against them.”

  “No?” Collin’s brows arched. “They didn’t want another uprising. Anyone or anything associated with the Jacobite cause had to be removed. Bonnie Prince Charlie and his Jacobite army had made it all the way to Derby— a little too close to London for the king’s comfort.

  “Though the English suspected Red Fox, he had been an agent for them, working for the crown— on the surface at least. They didn’t take his murder lightly. To prove their point, James Stewart, the man believed to have killed Red Fox, was hanged, and his body left on the gallows for over a year as warning to anyone who thought to rebel against the crown.”

  “That’s barbaric!” I grimaced at the thought of the hanging and a body left out to rot like that.

  “That’s English,” Collin retorted. “No offense intended regarding your father.”

  “None taken,” I murmured. My father was still a touchy subject between the two of us. He’d been one of the men to fire a musket at Collin’s father and end his life. That alone seemed unforgivable. But it was the violent way my father had taken me from Collin when I was a child that Collin had the most difficulty with.

  “Did you see it— the body?” I asked.

  “Aye. What was left of it. Your grandfather took me. At twenty, I was grown and ready to be on my way in the world. He was of a mind to let me go, but first he wanted to make certain I fully understood the dangers, and what hardships I— and the MacDonald clan— would face if I acted foolishly.” A wry grin twisted Collin’s lips. “I cannot say I was always fond of the education your grandfather provided.”

  “It sounds... unpleasant,” I agreed.

  “He was a hard man.” Collin’s gaze grew distant, traveling again to a time I was not privy to. “But a fair one as well. You did not want to cross Liam Campbell, but there was no better man to have on your side.”

  I brought a hand to my mouth as I considered Collin’s theory and what it might mean for our quest. My mother had married an English soldier— and instead of killing the man, Grandfather had allowed the marriage. He had taken in a MacDonald boy, seen that he had a proper Papist education— in spite of the climate against such— and betrothed him to his only grandchild. Grandfather had charged Collin and me with the care of both of our clans and seeing that our families and the Highland traditions were preserved. It made perfect sense that he would have used some of the clan’s means to help displaced families or those struggling to survive.

  He was a laird to more than just Campbells; his concern for others extended beyond the needs of his own people.

  And he wished Collin and me to carry that on. He would have realized we would need money to accomplish such a goal. “Instead of discouraging me about finding the dowry, this makes me feel more certain than ever that there was one and that we’ll find it.”

  “Not likely here.” Collin set the book aside and leaned back in his chair, stretching. “Edan had to know what was going on, that your grandfather was, in essence, siphoning off some of the clan’s income. He’s probably the one, if any, who knows what’s become of your dowry.”

  “Pity he’s gone for at least the next few weeks.” I rose from the table. “If you don’t believe we’ll find anything here, can we go?” After all this dust I was eager to return to the castle and make use of a fresh pitcher of water, a wash basin, and my lavender soap.

  “We’ll have to leave,” Collin said. “Now I’ve no choice but to go to Ian— before he ends up here— and try to stall him.”

  “Not alone, you won’t.” My heart raced at the suggestion of facing Ian again. But neither did I wish to be left alone, to contend with Brann.

  “I won’t leave you here,” Collin assured me. “Though neither can I take you with me to meet Ian. I’ll have to find some place safe for you.”

  I snorted. “Is there such a place in all of Scotland?” Instead of heading toward the door we had entered, I walked a slow circle around the room, part from curiosity, part half-wondering if there might be some clue we’d missed. “You don’t suppose the dowry might be hidden here, do you?”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Collin said. “I doubt it’s inside a building at all, given Brann’s penchant for burning them down. If the money still exists, no doubt your grandfather took many precautions for it.”

  I stopped at the fireplace, so long cold that not even a trace of ash remained in the box. I studied the brick and pushed on a few that appeared loose, imaging how it would be if one concealed a secret compartment that held the missing money. At least some of our problems would be solved if it was found.

  Collin pushed his chair back with a scraping of wood and rose, following me from the main room toward the narrow hall at the back. Two closed doors were on either side of it, and my curiosity peaked again.

  “Maybe we should look in these rooms, just in case.” I was eager to leave the dark cottage, but I also wanted to feel confident we’d done a thorough search.

  The sound of snoring drifted through the broken window. Hugh, our guard out front, had fallen asleep an hour ago. Some protection.

  “Go ahead if you’d like.” Collin waved a hand absently as he studied a framed document on the wall between doors. “Sleeping quarters is likely all you’ll find.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “We’ll leave as soon as you’re done. Is there anything particular at the castle you need? Or can we go straight away to the stables and leave from there— so as to avoid another encounter with Brann?”

  I could hardly disagree with that suggestion, but I also wasn’t eager to set off on another cross-country journey with nothing but the clothes on my back. “How far away is the MacDonald keep? How long will it take us to get there? What will we do when we arrive?” I didn’t want to trade one threat for another without at least a semblance of a plan.

  “There is a family there I trust with my life— and yours too.” Collin spoke slowly, as if considering his words with care. “I’ll leave you with them and go on to meet with Ian myself. I’ll have a better chance reasoning with him alone.”

  “A MacDonald family?” I asked warily. “How can you be certain they won’t object to hosting a Campbell?” The idea of being separated from Collin and left with potentially hostile strangers made me more than a little uneasy.

  “They’ll do as I ask. They’re—” Collin broke off. His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing absently as his lips pursed.

  I turned the knob on the first door and paused. “They’re what?”

  “The closest thing to family I have. After your grandfather gave me my freedom, I realized quickly how good I’d had it with the Campbells. He sent me away, told me I was to take care of my own people for a few years before the time came for you to return.” Collin sighed heavily. “I went home, thinking of what it had been before the rebellion.”

  “It was different?”

  “Aye.” Collin’s head bobbed. “Very different. When I realized the state of the clan, when I learned all who had been lost, and what had happened in the years since— the failed crops and stolen animals, the English patrols harassing the people continually— it was like returning to the past and living the worst years all over again.” His hand moved from the back of his neck to his hair, running troubled fingers through it.

  “There was much of death and sorrow. Starvation and savagery. But I found a place I could be, a family who welcomed me. And that became my sanctuary. It can be yours as
well. Gordon is of age now. He’ll watch out for you and protect you if need be. And Mhairi and her mother are two of the kindest souls you’ll ever meet.”

  Mhairi... my sanctuary... the closest thing to family. I felt as if I’d been struck.

  What am I, then? I could not have heard Collin correctly. Still facing away from him, I spoke softly. “You want me to stay with the woman you kissed before me? The one who wanted to marry you?”

  “Put like that it doesn’t sound good, but I feel it wou—”

  “What about how I feel? Have you considered that?” I pushed off the door and whirled toward him as it banged open. Any desire to continue the search for my dowry— to be given over to Mhairi and her family, for all I knew— had fled. I squared off with Collin, scarcely believing he had actually suggested that I might stay with them. Tears stung my eyes as hurt and anger battled for premier position. Collin was still stuttering for a response when I lashed out at him again.

  “No. Absolutely not. I can’t believe you would suggest such a thing.” The insecurities of the first several days of our marriage resumed with vengeance. “You may know nothing about jealous females, but I do. My own sister turned on me, simply because I accepted an invitation to dance, just once, with her fiancé.” He had not even been her fiancé at the time. I could only imagine what this Mhairi would do... Sink her teeth into me at the first opportunity? Strangle me in my sleep?

  “Katie—” Collin stepped closer, his eyes wide.

  Good. Let him see how upset he’s made me— again.

  He grabbed for me and missed as I stepped back, into the open room, beyond his reach. I felt equal parts incredulous and furious. I’d never wanted to hear Mhairi’s name again, let alone meet her and have to stay with her.

  “Katie, come here.”

  I could tell Collin meant his voice to be gentle, lulling, as if he thought that might somehow soften the blow he’d dealt me a moment ago. He held his hands out, coaxing me oddly, almost as if he was afraid.

  He should be. Striving for calm, I breathed in deeply as I took another step back, widening the space between us. My back bumped into something, and I turned to see what it was.