by Carmen Caine
“Why isn’t it hard for the other horses?” he asked, still looking as if he might cry.
“Well, look at them,” Katherine said. “They are all a lot bigger and stronger than Stormy is. Besides, this is their home. They’re used to it.”
“But ye love Stormy,” he said.
Katherine bit her lower lip, appearing to blink back her own tears. “Aye, I do,” she said finally. “I love her so much, I don’t want her to get hurt. That is why I didn’t leave her at Cotharach, and why I am giving her to someone else now who will love her.”
He put his arms around her ,whispering “Is that why ye were crying yesterday?”
“Partly,” she whispered back.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said, this time not whispering, “cuz ye know why?”
“Why?”
“Cuz Fingal says Laird MacIan takes care of his own, and you’re ‘his own.’” Leaning in and whispering again, he said with a little smile, “So am I.”
Although she hugged him and said, “I’m sure it will be all right,” Niall thought the expression on her face suggested she might not be all that confident. She looked around, seeming to realize for the first time that both Niall and Fingal had heard the exchange. Blushing, she let go of Tomas, stood up, and without making eye contact with anyone, brushed the dirt off her gown. When she finally looked up again, her mask of self-control was once more in place. She asked Niall, “Shall we go now?”
He nodded. No begging, no tears, no pouting. Once again he was impressed with her. Katherine only showed concern for the well-being of her horse and the feelings of a wee peasant lad. Puzzled, Niall lifted her onto his horse, mounted behind her, again positioning her sideways on his lap. She put her arm around him and they rode this way in silence for the rest of the afternoon.
~ * ~
Although their pace was easier and Niall took care to protect her back from further injury, Katherine became more uncomfortable as the day progressed. She didn’t want to tell him she needed to rest. She knew she was already slowing their progress, but she didn’t think she could take much more. She was pulling together the courage to tell him, when he finally announced they would halt for the evening. She sighed with relief. Her backed ached incredibly and she didn’t think she had ever felt so tired. She didn’t argue when Niall told her to rest, but sank to the plaid he spread on the ground, watching as he and his men made camp. Tomas energetically helped where he could.
By the time the men had settled the horses for the night, Keith had rejoined them bearing gifts. “My lady,” Keith said, bowing to Lady Katherine, “Laird Carr sends his sincere thanks for the fine mare. He also said although it is a very small offering, he wanted ye to have something in return.” Keith handed her a soft bundle. Inside she found a silver brooch and a length of soft cream-colored wool woven with stripes of green and blue.
“This is beautiful,” she said, genuinely pleased as she ran her hands over the soft fabric.
“That is called an airisaidh,” Niall explained. “It is like the plaid men wear but it is usually made of a lighter wool. It is held on with a brooch and worn over a garment like your kirtle that we call a léine.”
“It is very thoughtful of Laird Carr,” said Katherine.
“Laird Carr has four daughters. I suspect they had a hand in this,” Niall said.
“Aye, they did,” said Keith, laughing. “His oldest daughter, Anna, insisted on it. Laird Carr gave Stormy to her. She was overjoyed.”
Katherine knew it had been the right thing to do, but the confirmation that her beloved mare would not only be well treated, but loved, lightened her mood a great deal.
“Laird, he also sent a small gift to ye with his congratulations on your wedding,” Keith added.
Niall arched an eyebrow at that. “I’ll bet he did. For the last few years, every time I have seen him, Laird Carr has needled me about marriage. I have always assured him I had no intention of getting married. I am confident he found this new situation very amusing.”
Katherine wondered why Niall was so set against marriage but didn’t ask.
Keith produced two small casks of mead, a jug of excellent whisky, meat pies, cheese, brown bread, and small sugared buns.
After the meal, Tomas curled up beside Katherine with his head in her lap and went to sleep, sugar from the buns still circling his mouth. Niall’s men talked and joked throughout dinner, but Niall remained as quiet as he had been all day. After hearing his comments about marriage, Katherine thought to herself that she really knew nothing about this man, or any of them, really. She had managed to figure out their names over the course of the day, but other than that, the only bits of information she had had came from Tomas the previous evening. She smiled to herself when she remembered how he thought Duncurra was built in a loch.
“What amuses ye?” Niall asked.
She laughed a little. “I was thinking about how little I know of you all. I know these men are your ‘eeleet’ guard,” she said, emphasizing both syllables of the word as Tomas had the previous evening, “and Tomas thought Duncurra was built in the middle of a loch.”
Niall, too, chuckled at that memory, “To be fair, I know very little about ye, either.”
“I’m sure you know most of it.”
“Frankly, everything I thought I knew about you has been wrong.”
Confused, she said, “I don’t understand.”
“Never mind, it isn’t important. Tell me, how long has Ambrose Ruthven acted as your guardian?”
“Five years. He and my father were hunting. Apparently something spooked my father’s horse. He was thrown and killed instantly.”
“Your mother died before him?”
“Aye, she died when I was ten. The plague swept through Scotland that year.” She paused for a moment. “So many people died then, entire families in some cases. At least my father and I had each other.” She sighed, stroking Tomas’ head. “Things changed so much after he died.” She took a deep breath, looking away for a moment before saying, “So, I became an orphan, an heiress, and ward to a cruel uncle at fourteen. There isn’t much more to the story.”
Niall’s expression grew dark at the mention of her uncle’s cruelty.
Fingal broke the silence by saying, “Gentleman, our lady would like to learn a little bit about us. Shall I tell her?”
“Just don’t damn us with faint praise,” said Keith.
“It is much more likely he will simply damn us,” Alan added.
Fingal glared mockingly at Alan, then glanced around. “Hmm, where shall I start?” he considered the other men. “With the three old men at the top, I think. Diarmad is Niall’s second in command. As ye know, he left today with six other men. There are two captains under Diarmad, Cairbre, who remained behind in charge of Duncurra, and Alan here. As we have established, Alan is old,” Fingal teased. Alan did appear to be older than the others, but while lines creased his weathered face, his dark brown hair didn’t have any gray in it.
Alan frowned, “Mind who ye are calling ‘old,’ Fingal. Any of the three of us can still best ye.”
The men laughed and Fingal went on, undaunted.
“Alan is married to the lovely Effie, who is one of the clan’s midwives. She is a very good midwife, probably because she has had a lot of practice.”
Again, the men laughed, and for the first time all day, Niall joined in, explaining, “Alan and Effie have been blessed with eight children. I would ask him to tell ye about them, but he is a very proud father. His children are his favorite topic of conversation. If I give him an opening, he might still be talking about them as the sun rises.”
More laughter erupted, but Alan replied, “I will remind ye of this someday, Laird, when ye are bending my ear about your own brood.”
Katherine blushed, realizing the “brood” to which Alan referred would be hers as well.
Fingal continued, “Then we have Muir.” Shorter than Niall and with a leaner build, Muir had sandy
brown hair. “Muir, too, is married, but no one understands how that happened.” It was Muir’s turn to glare as Fingal went on. “His wife, Shona, is one of our finest weavers. They have two sons, one of whom is training with one of our allies, Fearghas Chisholm. The other is now training with Niall’s men.”
“How many men do you have?” Katherine asked.
“There are twenty in my elite guard, who not only guard my back, but are leaders and trainers of my other men. There are roughly one hundred more warriors who see to the clan’s protection full time,” Niall answered. “In addition to Cairbre, six other guardsmen remained at Duncurra.
Ruthven had more than twice that many soldiers, she thought, but if Niall’s elite guard was any indicator, she doubted the Ruthven men were half as well trained.
“Next is Turcuil,” said Fingal. Huge didn’t begin to describe Turcuil.
Katherine suspected people believed in giants because of men like him. At least a head taller than and half again as wide as Niall, he had to be the biggest man she had ever seen. His size, coupled with his black bushy hair and beard, gave him a fearsome appearance.
Fingal’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued to introduce the giant. “Ye mustn’t tell anyone, but ye should be warned because once we get to Duncurra, ye are bound to notice,” said Fingal, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Turcuil is a changling.”
Confused, Katherine cocked her head to one side.
“Oh, aye, he is,” Niall said dryly.
Deciding to play along, she asked, “What, pray tell, does he change into?”
“A lovesick swain,” answered Niall, and the men chuckled.
“Ye see,” Fingal explained, “Turcuil is rather fond of Edna, who is in charge of the staff at the keep. Edna is a widow and most of us think she has a soft spot for Turcuil, too, although it’s hard to know why.” This elicited more chuckles. “The problem is whenever Turcuil is near Edna, he forgets how to form words, so he has never actually done more than grunt at her. It is no wonder she doesn’t know of his affection.”
The other men roared with laughter.
Katherine suspected the huge man could put the fear of God into anyone, but when she glanced at him, he blushed like a maid.
“Since I am going by age, I have to tell ye about Keith and Keavy together.”
“They are the same age?” Katherine asked, glancing at the two men. Keith had pale blond hair and was shorter and slighter than the other guardsmen. He laughed a lot and looked youthful. But tall and stocky with shaggy brown hair, Keavy appeared quiet, almost sullen.
“I guess technically Keith is older by a few minutes. They are twins, though ye have probably noticed they are not identical. They are, in fact, as different as the night is from the day, but they are as close as two brothers could possibly be.”
“That they are,” said Alan. “If Keith eats too much, Keavy gets the indigestion.”
The men laughed but Fingal interjected, “Alan must have cleaned that joke up out of respect for ye, Lady Katherine. As I recall, it is normally a much bawdier comment.”
The men laughed harder.
When the laughter died, Fingal went on, “Now we come to Rab.” Fingal indicated a tall slender man with a head of shocking red hair. “Most people refer to him as ‘Rab the Red.’ I trust I don’t have to explain why; that isn’t a fire burning on his head.”
Rab grinned and ruffled his own hair. “Fingal, ye know it makes me a fierce warrior.”
“It only makes ye easy to see from a distance,” Fingal countered to the amusement of the other men. “And finally, ye have me, the more charming and handsome of the MacIan brothers.”
“Brothers?” said Katherine.
“Brothers,” answered Niall. “And the one who is going to die young if he doesn’t watch himself,” he added. Although he appeared to be teasing, Katherine thought she heard a serious undertone that surprised her.
Niall rose, offering his hand to her. “Now that ye have been properly introduced, I think it is time ye rested. We have another long day ahead of us.”
Somewhat reluctantly, Katherine kissed Tomas’ cheek and slid his head off her lap before taking Niall’s hand. Moving away from the rest of the men, she lay down with him on a plaid. He wrapped it around them and she fell asleep within the safety of his arms, thinking she could get very used to this.
Chapter 4
Their third day of travel went much the same as the first. Niall changed the dressing on Katherine’s back again before they left. The lacerations still looked very angry. He knew no matter how he tried to cushion her as they rode, the constant motion was irritating them. Then, late in the afternoon, the skies grew dark and a wind whipped up, signaling a brewing summer storm. Well into the Highlands now, Niall knew they really must have shelter this evening.
If he pushed their pace once again, they might be able to reach the protection of some caves he knew of. As much as he hated to do it, he reasoned sleeping in the rain would be considerably worse on Katherine than a couple of hours of hard riding. Niall wrapped his plaid around her as the storm hit, but it didn’t prevent her from getting drenched and cold before they reached the shelter of the caves. The previous evenings had not been cold, so Niall had chosen not to risk drawing unwanted attention by starting a fire. Tonight he would have welcomed the warmth of a fire, but there was nothing dry with which to build one.
Looking chilled to the bone and trembling, Katherine stepped deeper into the dark cave. When she returned, she had changed into dry garments. She still shivered slightly, holding a heavy mantle around her shoulders.
“Ye are still cold.”
“Not as cold as I was. Everything is still a bit damp, but I’m a little warmer.”
Niall pulled her close to him, wrapping her in his plaid, hoping that his heat would further banish the chill while they slept. He held her close throughout the night, but she slept fitfully, waking with dark circles under her eyes.
“Katherine, ye don’t look well,” he observed.
“I am just a bit tired and achy. I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.”
“Just a bit?” he asked skeptically. He hadn’t known her very long, but he suspected that if she was admitting to feeling “a bit tired and achy”, she actually felt much worse than that. Still, there wasn’t much he could do, so he didn’t push her. “Come, let me change your dressing.”
Katherine turned her back to him with no argument. Niall opened her kirtle to find her back was not healing and one particularly deep lash showed signs of festering. Following her directions, he cleansed it as best he could. Her clenched teeth and fisted hands told him that it caused her pain, but there was nothing else to be done. When he finished, she looked as pale and drawn as she had the evening before.
Once again they set out with Niall cradling his wife on his lap. The storm had blown itself out during the night. The day grew fine and warm, but by midmorning she was shivering in his arms. Closing her eyes against the bright sun, she snuggled closer to him, seeking his warmth. Her flushed face felt hot and dry to his touch. He realized that, in spite of all his efforts, fever had set in; she was desperately ill. When they stopped at midday, he tried with little success to get her to eat or at least drink something. Instead she curled up on a plaid and slept. He said to his men, “If we ride hard, we can reach Brathanead by this evening.”
Alan asked, “Do ye think she can tolerate traveling any faster?”
“I think if I don’t get her into the hands of a healer soon, I might lose her,” Niall answered, his voice unable to hide the anxiety he felt.
Niall pushed as hard as the horses could tolerate, Katherine burning up in his arms. They reached Laird Malcolm MacLennan’s keep, Brathanead, at dusk. The MacLennans had been staunch allies of the MacIans for as long as Niall could remember. He had trained under Malcolm’s father and he had enormous respect for the old laird.
Malcolm and Niall’s father, Alastair, had been good friends. Nia
ll and Fingal thought of him as an uncle. Now, just as his father had, Niall considered him to be his most trusted ally.
Malcolm met them in the courtyard. A flicker of surprise crossed his face when he saw the limp, feverish lass in Niall’s arms. He issued orders to see to their comfort and sent for the clan’s healer. “Give her to me, lad.” Malcolm reached up to lift Katherine off Niall’s lap.
Niall hesitated.
“Lad, I won’t break her. Ye have to get off that horse.”
Hesitantly, Niall lowered her into Malcolm’s waiting arms and dismounted.
“God’s teeth, lad, where did ye find this waif and what in the hell happened to her?”
“She is my wife, Malcolm.” At his shocked expression, Niall added, “It’s a long story.” He took Katherine back into his arms, and they entered the keep.
Fingal followed, carrying a sleepy Tomas.
“Who is the other urchin?” Malcolm asked lightly as he led them up the stairs into one of the towers containing bedchambers.
“A clansman,” answered Fingal, without offering any further information.
Katherine mumbled feverishly. “I promised I wouldn’t hide anything from you.”
“Wheesht, lass.”
“Niall, I’m ill.”
“Aye, lass, I know, but ye will get better now,” Niall answered, willing it to be true.
Then, in a more panicked voice, she asked, “Where is Tomas?”
“Tomas is fine; he’s with Fingal,” Niall assured her.
She still seemed agitated, begging, “Niall, Tomas needs you. I need you, please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” he said.
Katherine calmed, slipping back into the oblivion she had been lost in for hours.
Malcolm opened the door to one of the larger chambers on the second floor. Niall entered and laid her on the bed. Two maid servants helped remove her garments. When the MacLennan healer arrived, she turned Katherine on her side before removing the bandage. She sucked a breath in through her teeth and said, “Well, I have some work to do. Lairds, it will be best if ye leave so I can get to it.”