“I cannae …” she began.
“All right, easy now, ye have had a shock,” the stranger replied, and Evie rubbed her eyes, shivering with cold as she lay bedraggled upon the bank.
As she recovered a little more, she looked her rescuer in the face. He was a man whom she had never seen before, not a member of her father’s clan or an ally, nor a peasant from Lochrutton, the village which lay below her father’s castle. He was tall and well built, dressed in a red tunic, which was itself now soaked through. His face, which was clean-shaven and handsome, bore a smile. But she flinched back in terror as he reached out his hand, for he was a stranger, and she knew not of his intentions.
“I … I …” she gasped, coughing and spluttering with the water that filled her mouth and nose.
“I am nae goin’ to hurt ye. My name is Hamish, Hamish … MacBryde,” he said, a name which caused a wave of horror to run through her.
The name of MacBryde had long been feared by her family. The MacBrydes had long ago sided with the English against their own countrymen across the border. Her father called them traitors and would shake his head in anger at the name. They were allies of the Musgraves, and she knew that it was a Musgrave who had imprisoned her mother and held her grandmother as a slave for years before her father had rescued them both. She had never encountered a MacBryde before, and she was terrified as to what he might do. She had heard so many stories of their atrocities over the years, and she knew that they could not be trusted.
“What … what are ye doin’ here?” she asked, finally recovering enough to speak, her hands now blue with cold and her body beginning to numb.
She felt vulnerable and at his mercies, knowing that the chill running through her would prevent her from running away.
“I often come here, I like to sit up here and look across the borders and the moorlands. Ye are the first person I have ever encountered,” he said, taking off his cloak, “now, ye are shiverin’, place this around ye, it will help to warm ye up. If I had not seen ye thrashing about in the water, then ye would surely have drowned. What is yer name?”
“Ev … Evie, Evie … Elliott,” she mumbled as he placed the cloak around her shoulders, and she wrapped it close to her.
“An Elliott,” he said, as though recalling some past memory, “yer father is …”
“The Laird,” she replied, hoping perhaps that the name might scare him off and watching him cautiously.
She was frightened, for, despite his kindness, she knew not to trust a MacBryde, and she was suspicious as to why a man such as this should be here in the heart of her father’s territory, alone and watching. Was he a spy? What were his intentions? She was beginning to recover herself a little, and she edged away from him, watching him all the time. But he simply smiled and nodded.
“The daughter of the Laird, goodness me. I am honored. And what are ye doin’ crossin’ over the stream here and wanderin’ through the heathers all alone?” he asked, looking her up and down with curiosity.
“My father’s land, and I shall walk where I choose. And … and why are ye here?” she replied, trying to sound braver than she felt.
She wished that one of her brothers was there, or her father or one of the soldiers. They would soon chase this curious MacBryde away and see her safely home. But out here she was alone, and she knew she must make her escape as soon as possible. But the chill was setting in, and Evie continued to sit shivering as Hamish watched her.
“I walk this way at times. ‘Tis an escape from the castle, though I know it to be a dangerous one. If yer father knew …” he began.
“My father will know. Ye are a MacBryde and are nae to be trusted,” she replied, but he simply laughed once more and shook his head.
“A fine way to repay a man who has just saved yer life. I would hate to know how ye treat yer enemies,” he replied, laughing and moving closer towards her.
Evie felt disarmed by his comment. But she looked at him defiantly, trying to stand up and failing, the chill running through her bones.
“I … I will be all right, thank ye,” she replied.
She wanted him to leave her alone, though she knew she owed this man her life. But to trust a MacBryde? Evie knew what her father would say if he knew she was talking to a man of the clan who he and her family had sworn as enemies. No MacBryde was to be trusted, not even one who had rescued her from the torrent of the stream.
“And where is it that ye are goin’ to now, lass?” Hamish asked, “ye cannae walk soaked to the skin in the rain. Let me help ye.”
“Nay, I daenae need yer help. I have friends nearby, ye should go. If my father catches ye here then …” Evie said, but Hamish just smiled.
“Yer father has never caught me before. I have watched him and the other clansmen on the hunt, I fancy I have even seen ye at times, lass. When I pulled ye from the water, I recognized yer face. Ye have brothers too, daenae ye?” he said.
“Aye, and if they knew a MacBryde was here, then they would …” Evie began, struggling to her feet.
She was shaking with cold, and she knew she could not remain outside much longer, lest the chill would go to her bones. Hamish stood up too, looking around him at that lonely spot, as the rain continued to fall.
“Come now, lass. Can we nae be friends ye and I? These old quarrels are between our parents. Why must we be caught up in them?” he asked, holding out his hands.
“My quarrel is with anyone who would betray their fellow countrymen,” Evie said.
The MacBrydes had long had a pact with the English, selling their loyalty across the border. No MacBryde could be trusted. They were friends of the enemy, and it was rumored that an attack by their combined forces was imminent. Evie knew too the stories of the past and of how her poor grandmother was subjected to years of harsh treatment at the hands of the Musgraves. She had no intention of offering the hand of friendship, however kind this man might have been to her, and she watched him warily as he stood between her and the moorland path above.
“I daenae have time for such quarrels, I am nay enemy of yours,” Hamish replied.
“Then ye shall seek peace with my father? Are ye to be Laird upon the death of yer father?” Evie asked, and Hamish nodded.
“I am. And when I am, I shall forget the past and pursue peace,” he replied, an air of confidence about him.
Evie was not convinced. She had heard such tales before when the Elliotts and the MacBrydes had been at peace. It was promises such as this that had led to betrayal, and she could hear her mother’s words ringing in her ears.
“Never a trust a MacBryde, for they shall stab ye in the back,” she used to say.
“Well, Laird to be, I thank ye for helpin’ me, and now I must be on my way,” Evie said, pulling his cloak tightly around her.
“And I presume ye shall take my cloak with ye too?” he asked, smiling at her and laughing.
“I … nay, of course not. Here,” she said, handing him back the cloak, as an icy wind whipped along the course of the stream.
“Ye need it more than I, lass. Go on, be away with ye. It seems I cannae persuade ye to sit awhile with me and talk. Besides, ye are cold and need the warmth of a hearth to warm ye. I should be on my way too, I wouldnae wish to run into yer brothers or yer father as I make my way home,” Hamish replied.
“Ye risk a lot by comin’ here,” Evie said.
“What is life if nae without a little risk?” he replied, and she nodded, stepping past him and glancing back.
“I … thank ye …” she said and hurried off up the path leading to the heathers above.
“Will I see ye again?” he called back, but Evie made no reply.
On the brow above, she turned and saw him still watching her. How lucky it had been to encounter him, but Evie had no desire to forge a friendship with the enemy. Hamish MacBryde had been kind, but she knew not to trust him. She was her father’s daughter, the daughter of Lairds and warriors. This man was the enemy, and even to speak with him
felt like a betrayal. But despite that fact, she could not help but feel grateful. After all, he had saved her life, when she too was an enemy to him. Were his words really sincere?
Evie watched him for a moment, before turning back to look across the heathers. The clouds were clearing now, the merest hint of blue sky against the dark clouds. A rainbow hung in the distance, and the sun had caught the purple of the heathers over on the hills beyond. When she glanced back, he was gone, disappearing as readily as he had appeared. A stranger on the heathers, an enemy at large. She pulled his cloak around her more tightly, glancing back again as she hurried over the heathers. It had certainly been an eventful day, and Evie would be glad of a fire and a friendly face.
Chapter Three
Caitlin lived with her mother in a croft about a mile further on from the stream where Evie had fallen. A path led across the heathers, and soon Evie was hurrying towards the croft, from which issued a plume of smoke signaling a warm hearth and the prospect of relieving herself of the chill which ran through her body. Her clothes were soaked, and despite Hamish’s heavy cloak wrapped about her, she was shivering with cold.
The thought of what might have occurred had she not been rescued from the stream was running through her mind, and by the time she arrived at the croft, she was teary and emotional. Evie Elliott was not given over to such things and always considered herself to be a level headed and sensible woman. As the only daughter to her father and sister to two elder brothers, she had always viewed herself as strong and equal to them. But now the horror of what had just occurred began to overwhelm her, a feeling not helped by the chill setting in.
“My goodness, Evie. Whatever happened to ye?” Caitlin said as she opened the door of the croft to greet her friend.
She was a tall girl with fiery ginger hair and blue eyes. Exceptionally pretty and now, her face appeared aghast, as Evie collapsed into her arms. Her mother appeared a moment later, and together they brought Evie inside, hurrying her to the fire, where she fell into a chair.
“My, my, my, ye are soakin’ lass,” Caitlin’s mother said, as they began to strip Evie’s clothes from her and warm her by the fire.
“Did ye fall into the stream?” Caitlin asked, looking at her friend in disbelief.
Evie’s teeth were chattering, and her hands now shaking as the warmth of the croft hit her.
“I … yes, I fell, tryin’ to cross over on the yonder bank,” she said, as Caitlin’s mother placed a pan of water over the fire.
“Let me have those wet clothes, ye shall have to wear somethin’ of Caitlin’s for now, Evie. Ye poor wee bairn, soaked to the skin and freezin’ cold. Ye will catch yer death if we daenae get ye warm,” Caitlin’s mother said.
They warmed milk over the fire and mixed it with honey to make a soothing drink, which Evie drank thankfully. Gradually, she began to feel warmer until the feeling in her hands and feet returned. Caitlin brought her a simple dress and wrapped her in a warm blanket, her own clothes hung over the fire to dry.
“Is this one of yer brother’s cloaks?” Caitlin said, holding up Hamish’s woolen cloak and examining it.
“ … Aye, ‘tis Rory’s, he … he lent it to me when the rain looked as though it were to be heavy,” Evie replied.
“It was nae the rain ye needed to worry about,” Caitlin replied, shaking her head, “why were ye crossin’ so far up the stream? I never cross there, ‘Tis far safer to cross near the castle where the shallows form.”
“Aye, I know,” Evie replied, taking another sip of hot milk, “but the banks have burst with the sudden rain ad I thought I could find a better place upstream then down below. It was foolish, I know.”
“Ye were lucky to get out. I have known animals to be swept away in that stream, and if ye were to go over the falls then …” Caitlin said, her words trailing off.
“Aye, well. I didnae, and I am all right,” Evie replied.
“Nae, if we cannae get ye warm. Ye must stay here tonight, Evie,” Caitlin’s mother said.
Evie nodded. Her mother was used to her staying with Caitlin, and she would not be missed if it were only for a night. She glanced out through the window onto the moorlands beyond. There was rain in the distance, though the sun was still breaking through in patches and far off she could see her old home, the castle in which she had grown up. How strange to think of a MacBryde coming so close at hand. Hamish risked much in doing so, he was a fool if he thought her father would never discover him. But should she tell him or not? After all, Hamish had saved her life and loyalty notwithstanding that fact meant something to her, something significant.
“Aye I will, thank ye,” Evie said, smiling at Caitlin and her mother, who both shook their head at the sight of Evie sat curled up before them.
“A sad business about yer grandfather, Evie. How dae ye feel about yer new home?” Caitlin’s mother said, as she continued to fuss around Evie, who was now feeling much better, the warm milk and fire alleviating her chill.
“ a sad place, Kirklinton. I miss the castle below. My grandfather’s castle is a dark and broodin’ place, full of shadows. I wish we still lived at the old Armstrong place,” Evie replied, “I was happy there. Life suddenly seems far more complicated than it did before.”
“There is a difference in bein’ the daughter of a Laird and the granddaughter of a Laird,” Caitlin’s mother observed, “yer mother loved that place though. It reminded her of her parents. The Armstrong’s were folks and benevolent too. I recall my mother weepin’ a bitter tear on that fateful night when the Musgraves burnt the place to the ground. Wicked people.
Evie nodded, she had known her since she was a child and she knew Caitlin’s mother to be a wise woman. Just like her own mother, she was strong-willed and had a steely determination to her. Caitlin had lost her father to a skirmish with the MacBrydes, another reason why Evie had no wish to mention her encounter with Hamish by the stream. She could well imagine her friend’s reaction if it were known she had been fraternizing with the enemy.
“Ye will soon be married off, Evie and then we shall never see ye again,” Caitlin said, settling herself down next to Evie, as her mother passed them both a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread.
“Married? Nay, I have nay intention of marryin’ anyone,” Evie replied, as she began to eat hungrily.
“Tell her, mother. She will have to marry, she is the Laird’s daughter and does nae a Laird’s daughter have to marry some nobleman or other?” Caitlin said, laughing.
“Aye, ‘tis true, Evie. Ye cannae live at Kirklinton all yer life as a spinster. I am sure yer father will find ye a suitable match in due course,” Caitlin’s mother replied.
“But I daenae wish to marry any man,” Evie said, shaking her head, “why is everyone talkin’ about my marriage all of a sudden?” and she thought back to her mother’s words of earlier in the day.
“Because soon ye must dae so,” Caitlin replied.
“But ye are nae interested in marriage either, are ye?” Evie said, turning to her friend.
“It’ll come to her too,” her mother said, settling herself down opposite them by the fire, “I cannae have Caitlin under my feet forever.”
“Then we share a fate together. Rory is waitin’, and ye could marry him tomorrow if ye wished,” Evie said, turning the table on her friend, who blushed.
“Rory is a nice lad, he is kind too, but … I daenae think I could marry him,” Caitlin replied.
“And why, nae? He is madly in love with ye, even today as I was leavin’ he asked after ye, sent ye his greetin’ and spoke of how he hoped to see ye soon,” Evie replied.
“I am nae the daughter of a Laird. I shall marry when I choose, ye, on the other hand, must marry when ‘tis decided for ye, Evie,” Caitlin replied.
“My father wouldnae dae such a thing. Ye forget that he and my mother married for love, nae duty. My grandfather wouldnae hear of it at; first, it was only after my father rescued my mother from the Musgraves that the truth was revealed,�
� Evie said.
“And what a story that was,” Caitlin’s mother replied.
Outside, it was growing dark, and the rain had begun to fall again. Evie was glad that she did not have to walk back across the moorlands that night, nor navigate the treacherous stream in the dark. The croft felt warm and snug, the fire was stoked up, and more milk put on to warm. Evie, Caitlin, and her mother talked long into the night, reminiscing about the old days when life had seemed far simpler for Evie than it did now.
She and Caitlin slept together that night, covered over in a mound of blankets. For despite the fire, the night was cold. Evie was exhausted, the shock of her fall into the icy water still foremost in her mind, and despite her tiredness, she lay awake for some time, mulling over the events of the day. If Hamish MacBryde had not rescued her, then there may well have been two funerals for her father and mother to attend in that sad week. She had been lucky, and she knew it. But the thought of admitting that it was a MacBryde who had rescued her was not something she wished to entertain. The MacBrydes were the enemy, and whether Hamish was different or not, Evie knew that it would not matter if ever her family discovered the truth of what had happened. I shall keep it a secret, she thought to herself, as she closed her eyes and let sleep overcome her. Her dreams filled with gushing streams, handsome strangers, and the most unlikely of rescues.
Highlander’s Gypsy Lass (Highlander's 0f Clan Macgregor Book 1) Page 29