Yesterday's Promise

by Michele Paige Holmes

  He had to have been worried about what he was sending me to. I tried, unsuccessfully, to shrug off my own concerns and ate in silence.

  After the meal was over, the Campbells stayed to their side, abrupt barks of laughter and an occasional burst of song reaching our ears. The MacDonalds did not sing, or even talk much. They were an even more sullen lot than I’d first thought them to be, and I determined that on the morrow I would eat with the Campbells. Collin wished me to stay away from Ian, and I would happily oblige.

  Eager for any excuse to be away from the men— exchanging covert glances with one another and staring at me with what I imagined to be shifty eyes— I excused myself to prepare to travel again. Collin rose and left with me as well, escorting me to the carriage.

  “Did I mind my tongue well enough this time?” I asked when we were well away from the group.

  “Aye,” Collin said. “And unless I’m with you, mind your distance, too. Stay clear of Ian.”

  “I will,” I promised, only too eager to follow my husband’s counsel.

  PART 2

  Danger and delight grow on one stalk.

  “How is she in danger?” I didn’t want to care but found the thought of anyone hurting the lass concerned me.

  “Knowing the future is a power most men can only dream of,” Laird Campbell said. “Many would kill— or worse— for it.”

  I thought I understood. He was afraid someone would take his granddaughter and force her to use her... gift. If that’s what it really was. I wasn’t convinced that her coming into the hall just now was anything more than coincidence.

  Chapter Twelve

  The evening meal was both sparse and later than usual that night. We had resorted to sleeping in the forest and eating around a campfire. There were to be no more inns or taverns. Our days of travel would be longer, Quinn explained. The men had been gone too many days and needed to get home to their families and crops.

  I felt both apprehensive and excited at the idea of spending the night out in the open. It was certainly not something any properly bred English woman did, yet it seemed with each mile I traveled from home— to home?— everything about me that had been proper slipped further and further away. Leaving my hair down to blow about wildly had seemed a scandalous freedom; sleeping in an open meadow with twenty men nearby was almost too much to contemplate.

  A trickle of a brook meandered through the middle of the camp, naturally and effectively dividing the Campbells from the MacDonalds. The rivulet was an offshoot, Collin said, of the river that cut through the mountains to the north and ran swiftly in the valley just below our camp. I’d thought England beautiful, but the piece we’d traveled yesterday and today took my breath away. The distant mountains reached skyward, their peaks both majestic and threatening. The rolling hills leading to them boasted color as I’d never seen it before. The grasses were greener, the wildflowers deeper purples and blues and yellows, the sky darker and more intense. My fingers itched for a canvas and my paints to capture it all.

  As usual, Collin and everyone else largely ignored me. Instead of feeling hurt by this or complaining, I recognized that all were busy at some task and so went about my business quietly and avoided the MacDonald side of camp and Ian as much as possible. It soon felt wrong to meander or sit about doing nothing, when all around me men were busy gathering wood, tending to the animals, preparing what I guessed would be tomorrow’s breakfast, and repairing the wheels on the carriage— a daily task— yet again.

  My repeated offers of help had all been politely refused when Malcom— the youngest of the Campbells traveling with us, a shy youth who kept mostly to himself— took up his water pouch and announced he was heading to the river to fill it, only to be ordered to some other task by Ruaridh. Seeing an opportunity to do something useful, I determined to fetch the water myself. The river was not far, just across a short meadow and down a slope from our camp. With Malcom’s pouch in hand, I forged a trail through the tall grass, then picked my way carefully down the hill.

  The river ran swift and cold, and before filling the pouch I knelt on the bank and took a moment to wash my hands and face. Though the freezing water stung, I persisted, knowing this was likely all the grooming I would be allowed tonight. My trunk had not been taken down from the carriage, and I was reluctant to ask anyone for such a favor. I had now gone three days in the same dress and dearly wished for a change, but without the privacy of an inn it did not seem that I would have the opportunity to either bathe or change my clothing anytime soon. Collin had said life in the Highlands would be hard, but I hoped it would not always be this dirty.

  When I’d filled the pouch, with some reluctance I left the peace and solitude of the river and started up the bank. Holding my skirts and looking down to avoid any missteps on the uneven ground, I hurried along, suddenly conscious of the near dark. Fear prickled along the back of my neck, along with the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced behind me, but the only movement was the rushing water below.

  Nothing. No one was following me. The feeling of unease persisted. Telling myself to quit being so foolish, I trudged on, crested the hill, and came face to face with Ian and another equally menacing MacDonald I did not know. Their cold eyes narrowed at me, and a victorious sneer curled Ian’s lips.

  “Too easy,” he said beneath his breath.

  His companion gave a short laugh.

  I took a step backward and struggled to find my footing as they advanced. I was a fair distance from our campsite. Alone. At twilight. And worse, I had not told anyone where I was going.

  “Good evening.” I forced my lips into a smile, hopeful my quavering voice did not betray my fear.

  Instead of returning my greeting, Ian took another step toward me, forcing me back again. No matter, I could walk through the grasses and go around. I veered off course, only to have him follow, blocking my way once more. All of Collin’s warnings about Ian rushed through my mind. His intent to harm was clear, clearer still when his accomplice withdrew the knife from his belt.

  I had the fleeting thought that this was not my destiny. Grandfather had not planned for me to return to Scotland to meet my end at Ian’s cruel hand.

  I stopped and craned my neck up at Ian, pressing the water pouch to my chest to hide my pounding heart. “Yes? Was there something you wished— to discuss?”

  He came even nearer. I held my ground. The other knife-wielding MacDonald stepped up beside him, blocking the last bit of light from the fire at our camp. The river had seemed so close when I’d wandered down here, but now I realized how foolish I was to have ventured this far alone.

  “Last night, because of you, I spent three hours surrounded by Englishmen and pretending to be a Campbell.” Ian’s words were slow and deliberate, as if he’d spent those three hours imagining this meeting and his revenge.

  “I didn’t think you were nearby when we were detained.” I assumed the MacDonalds had gone around or ahead of us, or at the least were well hidden in the forest. I wished I was well hidden now. My eyes darted about, attempting to peer around Ian, searching for a way— any way— I might escape. But the last of the light had fled, and I could no more see a place to run than I could see anyone coming to help me.

  Ian chuckled. He was enjoying this, a predator amusing himself with his prey before pouncing. His hair hung down his back, melting in with the darkness behind him, so that I could not tell where he ended and the night began. For the first time in my life I felt afraid of the dark.

  “I’d ridden with Collin and was waiting for him,” Ian explained, continuing in that painfully slow voice. “Watching to see if he’d get himself in trouble looking out for you.” Ian’s tone was bitter.

  “A redcoat found our horses. I’d crept behind him and was about to slit his throat when that Campbell lad found me.”

  He had to mean Malcom. He was the only Campbell traveling with us young enough to be considered a lad.

  “He called out to me, greeted me as cousin, and
alerted a half dozen other redcoats to my presence. I ended up the tail end of your happy little caravan, surrounded by English. I’m no Campbell. Bloody traitors,” Ian spat.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, the words thick in my throat. “But we are all here safely now, are we not?” He might have spent a few discomfiting hours, but no real harm had come of it— whereas, if Ian had killed the English soldier, there was a good chance we all would have paid, perhaps with our very lives.

  “I can look out for myself.” Ian took another step toward me. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I fight my own battles.” Ian was now close enough that he could reach out and grab me if he wished. I stepped back and felt frigid water pool at my ankles.

  A sinister smile curved Ian’s lips upward. “It would be a pity, if— after all the trouble we’ve gone to retrieving you— you had a careless accident in the river.”

  “If you harm me, you’ll not have my dowry.”

  He shook his head. “It won’t be my fault you drowned in the river. Don’t worry. The MacDonalds will keep their part of the bargain. You’ll be delivered to the Campbells as promised. I’ll fetch you out of the river myself— all pale and bloated, fingers and toes nibbled by the fish.” He laughed again. “And I’ll have that money.”

  “The Campbells aren’t fools. They’ll never give you anything if I’m—” Dead.

  Ian crouched slowly, never taking his eyes off me, and retrieved a dagger from his boot. I could barely see its gleaming blade in the dark. The other MacDonald moved closer, so that one of them stood on either side of me.

  “I’ll scream.”

  “Aye.” Ian nodded, encouraging me it seemed. “And poor Collin will rush to your rescue.”

  “They’ll know it’s you. You’ll never—”

  “You’ll be downriver. And we’ll be waiting when Collin comes at your bidding. Two birds with one stone— or with two knives, as that may be.” He touched the tip of his with his finger.

  Not Collin. I squeezed the pouch so tight against me that water began to bubble over the top, wetting the front of my gown. I would not scream. I could not let them harm Collin.

  “Niall.” Ian motioned to his companion.

  Niall grabbed my arm, dragging me farther into the river.

  “Go ahead. Call for him.” Ian’s blade was suddenly at my throat, the tip sharp against my skin when I tried to swallow. I pressed my lips together to keep from crying out.

  A twig snapped somewhere above us, followed at once by the sound of footsteps and voices. I recognized Finlay’s lilting speech.

  “Don’t—”

  Ian’s forceful shove cut off my warning and sent me plunging backward into the icy river.

  “Give me your hand, Katie.” The old laird held his out.

  She hesitated, one hand clutching her wrap, the other stiff at her side. “Brann says I’ll get warts if I touch the MacDonald.”

  She was worried? I was the one likely to be infected with something, surrounded by Campbells as I was.

  The laird frowned, stretching his scar in a most frightening manner. “You’re not to believe anything Brann tells you— ever. Do you understand?” He took her hand and then mine before I’d realized what he intended. He joined them together, placing her tiny one in my large.

  She looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes, but it was I who felt suddenly afraid— chained and burdened. I snatched my hand away, worried over far greater matters than warts.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A thousand knives pierced my skin. I pushed to the surface, gasping for breath the bitter cold and Ian’s blow to my chest had stolen. My arms flailed on top of the water while my legs thrashed uselessly below, heavy and tangled in the weight of my petticoat and skirt. I managed only one other word.

  “Ian!” Let them know he’d done this. Let Collin be safe. The river pulled me under again, sweeping me along in the swift current. I tried to move toward shore but had barely the strength to push my head above the water. I came up at last, coughing up the river, desperately sucking in air.

  Men were shouting and running in all directions. But they were so far away, and I was too tired to cry out, and the current carried me off again.

  Float. I heeded the thought, arching my back, straining to keep my face free of the water. My legs refused to rise. Still I forced my head aloft, arms out, feet uselessly kicking. The river rose suddenly, thrusting me forward, dashing the back of my head against a rock. Sharp pain exploded along the top of my skull. My throat and chest burned as I sank again.

  Water flooded my lungs. Collin. Grandfather. Father. Collin. Mother. Anna. Timothy. Collin. I lifted a feeble hand and struck something solid. A second later my forehead bumped it.

  I curved my fingers, searching for purchase on mossy wood. My other hand joined the first, and I pulled myself up, chin level with the river, coughing up water as I tried to take in air.

  “Katie!” A man stood on the bluff above. A lantern swung from his hand as he scrambled down the hill, rocks skittering to the river’s edge. “Hold on.”

  Collin. I dug my fingers in deeper, pressing my face against the partly submerged branch.

  With a great splash, he entered the river, his silhouette visible from the light left on shore. Stroking with one arm, Collin swam closer. His other held tight to the tree that had fallen and somewhat blocked the river’s path. My arms burned from holding on, and I felt the pull below, sucking my legs and sodden clothing beneath the log, trying to sweep me away for good.

  “Hold on,” Collin shouted above the roar.

  I will. I am. Hurry. I’d no breath for words.

  He reached me at last, placed an arm on either side, then half climbed over me, so that he was behind now, between me and the center of the river. Collin wrapped one leg around mine, anchoring me to him, and placed one hand on top of mine, twining our fingers together.

  “Slide one hand at a time along the log. I’ll push from behind.”

  I followed his lead, leaning forward, pulling with what little strength I had left. Below the surface, Collin pushed my useless legs along until we’d reached the shallows and I could touch the bottom.

  “Keep going,” he warned, tightening his grip. “There’s an eddy here that will pull us right back out.”

  Another step and I felt it, strong and powerful, made more so when the floor of the river dropped away again. We continued our labored progress until at last we reached the bank. Collin grasped my waist and hauled me onto the shore, out of harm’s way.

  I lay face down, heaving and coughing and still searching for breath, but alive.

  “Over here,” Collin shouted, waving an arm and holding the lantern as he stood above me.

  Behind us the river roared, angrily swirling around the fallen log that had been my savior. No. The log had merely delayed my drowning. It was Collin who had pulled me from the river, Collin who had saved me, literally shielding me from the dangerous current.

  I shall be a shield for your back... Just one of his many promises— and I’d judged our vows as overly dramatic.

  Alistair scrambled down the hill toward us.

  “Get up, Katie.” Collin grasped my arms, pulling me to a standing position. My legs, exhausted from their fight, wanted to buckle.

  “Lean against me, lass.” Alistair stopped in front of me, and I leaned into him gratefully, resting my head on a blanket slung over his shoulder. I felt a tug at my back.

  “We’ve got to get you out of these wet clothes,” was followed by the sound of tearing fabric. “Can you help me, Katie?”

  “Y-yes,” I stammered, guessing the alternative was that Collin and Alistair would undress me here and now.

  “Hold up that blanket,” Collin ordered.

  With one hand out to steady me, Alistair used the other to pass my temporary pillow to Collin.

  “We’re going to hold this around you,” he explained. “Take off your dress and un
derthings. I’ve cut the fabric.”

  The blanket wrapped around me from the nose down. I peeked over it to see Collin replacing the knife in his belt.

  I wanted to change out of this dress. The fleeting thought, laden with irony, was replaced almost instantly by necessary concentration as I attempted to force trembling, cold-stiff fingers into peeling back layers of wet clothing.

  I tugged at my sleeves, all the while shivering so violently that my teeth chattered. What had been a decent mourning gown fell to the ground. I stepped from it, then leaned forward, freeing my corset to follow.

  Ruined. The back had been slashed, not only through the strings but the fabric as well.

  I peeled the square of tartan away from the stays but kept it in my hand while I continued to disrobe.

  The petticoats came next and finally my shift. The vulnerability I felt was only rivaled by the terrible cold. Gooseflesh covered my arms and legs, and I couldn’t control my shaking.

  “Done now?” Collin asked, his face, and Alistair’s, carefully averted.

  “Yes.”

  Collin kept hold of both sides of the blanket and wrapped them tightly around me before handing me the edges.

  “Can you walk?” he asked. “I’d carry you, but I’m soaked myself.

  He’s freezing, too. I’d thought only of my own misery the past several minutes, but now I looked on him with gratitude— and concern.

  “Ian means to kill you,” I blurted. Where was he now? Had anyone else been hurt?

  “Ian and Niall went the other direction,” Alistair said. “Finlay and Moireach saw them leave on their horses. Probably long gone by now.”

  “But if he comes back—”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Collin said. “It’s cold that will get us now if we don’t get dry and warm.”

  I listened to him, or perhaps my chattering teeth, and began trudging up the slope between Alistair and Collin, blanket clutched tight and my shoes sloshing with each step. I’d not discarded those. I hadn’t another pair this practical.