“I will wait.”
She wanted to get up and stomp off, but it was getting dark and it was not safe. So she just put her brush in her lap, tightly folded her arms and stared into the fire.
Bethia took pity on her friend. “Stop teasing her.”
“Bethia is right,” said Hannish. He got up and then offered his hand to Greer. “The lasses should now sit on the other side of the fire so the men can keep their backs to the loch and see if there is danger. Obediently, the women moved and without planning it, Bethia was sitting beside him and Greer was next to Brendan.
Greer glared at Brendan. “Do not touch me.”
“I had not planned to. However, I am not put off by your dismissal, I am accustomed to it.”
“I can see why.”
Brendan pretended to pout. “Why?”
“Because...because you are dim-witted.”
He rolled his eyes. “I am dim-witted? You are the one who pledged to marry a lad you do not know. That is the most dim-witted thing I have ever heard of.”
Greer was not about to let him have the last word. “I have heard of marriages where neither has even met the other before the priest marries them. It happens all the time in England and they do not call it dim-witted.”
“Yet a lad must see if a lass suits him before he marries,” said Brendan.
“You believe the lad should have the say? A lass must see if a lad suits her first.”
“And I do not suit you?”
Greer puffed her cheeks. “Are you always this difficult?”
Brendan finally smiled. “Aye.” It was the first time in three days she returned his smile and he was very pleased. Bethia was right; Greer MacGreagor was perfect for him.
HANNISH ENJOYED THEIR banter and loved watching Bethia while she finished drying her long, thick hair. He often glanced around to be sure they were not in danger, but it was the first time since he found her he felt really relaxed. He did not mean to ask, but there was one question he needed the answer to. “Bethia, why did you not tell me you were leaving?”
She could not believe he had the nerve to ask such a question. At first, she glared at him and then she looked away. Then she got really angry. If he needed to know how badly he hurt her, then she would just tell him. “I did not want you to see me cry.”
He looked incredulous. “If it was what you wanted, why would it make you cry?”
“What I wanted?” She blinked repeatedly, trying to think how he had come to that conclusion. “What made you think I wanted it?”
“It was your decision, you must have wanted it.”
“My decision?” She shook her head in disbelief. “How could I decide whom you would marry? You decided it, not me.”
“What are you talking about? I wanted to marry you.”
“So you said, but you could not have both of us.”
“Both of whom?”
“Me and Iona. You could not have two wives, you had to choose one of us, and you did not choose me...so I left.”
Hannish stared at her and then slowly dropped his gaze. “So that is what Iona was trying to tell me. She said she did something awful and wanted to talk to me about it. Then word came that the MacDonalds were ready to attack and I sent her away.”
Bethia wrinkled her brow. “What are you talking about?”
“The day after you went to England, Iona told me you left to marry a wealthy Englishman.”
Bethia’s mouth dropped. “...marry a...nay, that is not why I left.”
“I know that now. What did she tell you?”
“She said you had chosen to marry her. Are you saying you did not choose her?”
“And you believed her?”
“I had no reason to think she was lying. You believed her too.”
Hannish finally smiled, “True, I did.”
“Then you do not have a daughter?”
“Not a daughter and not a wife. Did you marry an Englishman?”
“I tried to like them, but...none of them were you.”
When he leaned toward her, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You did not come after me.”
“I did not know you wanted me to.” He lightly kissed her lips. “I have missed you so.” If she had not been hurt, he would have picked her up and pulled her into his lap. Yet she was hurt so he had to contain his joy and wait until she could be in his arms the right way.
“Do you promise never to leave me?” she asked. Finally, his lips were on hers and she could openly love him again. Two wasted years were finally over, she was safe and she was loved by the only man she ever dreamed of.
Hannish kissed her twice more before he said, “Say you will marry me. Say it quickly so you cannot misunderstand this time.”
“I will marry you and love you the rest of my life.”
In the warm glow of a country campfire with two smiling people watching, Bethia MacGreagor sealed her promise with a long, passionate—forever kiss.
-end-
ALISON
CHAPTER I
HE COULD HEAR HER LONG before he saw her and when he got close enough, Ben MacGreagor couldn’t take his eyes off the lovely young woman with dark hair. She sat on a tree stump in the forest with her hand held out, trying to tempt a fawn into coming close enough to eat the morsels of wheat she had in her palm. He held his breath and remained perfectly still trying not to spook the animal. Cautiously, he glanced around but if the doe was nearby, it was out of sight. Even so, he was concerned. An upset mother might see Alison as a threat and charge.
“I will not hurt you, little one,” Alison softly muttered. She wore a new green and blue plaid with the MacGreagor traditional white shirt and a strip of cloth over one shoulder. “You are so bonnie.”
Ben thought the same, although his admiration was for Alison as well as the fawn. At long last, the fawn got brave enough to nibble the wheat in her hand. Yet when Alison withdrew it to refill her palm with morsels, the fawn got spooked and jumped into the forest. Ben watched Alison’s expression change from delight to disappointment and then he quietly slipped away before she discovered him.
NONE OF THEM HAD EVER driven cattle a long distance before, and the unlikely collection of herders soon learned that finding water and ample grass for grazing was no easy task. Gill’s brother, his wife and child were thrilled when Bethia, Hannish, Greer and Brendan caught up with them. Together they numbered seven people, eight horses, six cows and one Scottish terrier.
Keeping the milk cow from drying up was their main concern. Would driving the cattle for long hours each day be too much for the milk cow? No one knew, so they only traveled half a day at a time. None of them were in a hurry and as long as they had milk and the hunting was good, they wouldn’t starve. It gave Bethia’s back ample time to heal.
Only once did they come in contact with another clan, who seemed more interested in stealing the herd than in attacking them. That problem was quickly settled when out of three fit MacGreagor warriors, only Hannish drew his sword. It implied he needed no help and the opposing four turned and rode away.
Greer, who had little to do with animals in her days as an “inside” servant spent most of her time trying not to step in something. Naturally, it fell on the men to protect them and the women to take turns milking the cow, which did not suit Greer’s idea of an easier life than the one she left in England. Even so, she eventually mastered the duty, despite the number of times the others laughed at her.
Twice Greer declared she was not about to fall in love until she had seen every unmarried MacGreagor and MacClurg in the clan. Twice Bethia had to reassure Brendan that Greer had already decided; she just didn’t know it yet.
With no calves wanting the milk and no way to make cheese, the herders filled their flasks in the evening and laid them in the cold-water streams to cool during the night. Yet always there was too much, so they left the excess milk on the ground, which attracted more than one wild cat along the way. Soon, the people followed the cows and the
cats followed the people. Then a red fox, which could hardly ever be seen in the daytime, realized the advantages and began to follow the cats. The dog chased the cats and the fox, the horses occasionally objected to the ruckus and the people scrambled to keep the cow calm—except Greer who was beginning to rethink her decision to leave England.
At last, the herd, the herders, the cats, the dog and the red fox rounded the hill and started up the long, lush grasslands of the MacClurg glen.
In their excitement, the newcomers left the small herd and rode half way up the hillside. As soon as they halted and turned back to look, the sight of their new home in the distance took their breath away. The cloudless sky was a beautiful blue and the air held a hint of burning wood from the hearths of the cottages. It even smelled like home. The older cottages surrounded the three-story keep and were well away from the river in case of a flood. New cottages grew the village by dozens to the south with winding paths and ample space for flower and herb gardens between them.
In front of the cottages, several warriors were practicing their skills in a field and the clan’s herd of cattle grazed on one hillside while sheep dotted another. Horses and people were everywhere, some cottages were still under construction and to the newcomers, the place looked like paradise.
Gill’s brother grinned and patted the bag of seed he’d kept tied to his waist all the way from their old home. The land looked fertile and ready for planting.
SOMEONE FINALLY NOTICED and whistled the old familiar MacGreagor whistle signaling approaching riders. It was soon followed by more whistles on down the glen and as he had many times before, Neil swung up on his horse and rushed out to greet the missing members of his clan. He was especially excited to see Bethia. Then he took them to the Keep for the usual pampering with hot baths for the women, good food and good conversation for them all.
Everyone wanted to hear everything first hand and several men crowded into the great hall on the first floor of the Keep. The women wanted to hear what the new women on the top floor had to say, and began to form a line up the two enclosed staircases.
When Glenna got a good look at the scars on Bethia’s back, a gasp made its way from mouth to mouth, all the way down the stairs, and out the door into the ears of the women waiting outside.
The men were just as bad, passing on the details of Hannish’s revenge on Laird Ferguson, and then the two Englishmen who beat Bethia. To that, each and every man gave his satisfied nod.
In the courtyard, the horses were unpacked and led away to a place where they too could rest. Yet when Ben MacGreagor led Bethia’s beautiful golden-brown stallion with the white mane and tail away, he didn’t notice Alison following him.
Never had she seen such a magnificent horse—except the one she called, Honey. Side-by-side, she wondered if even she could tell her mare from Bethia’s Stallion. Alison was not just fascinated by the coloring, she knew the stallion would fight with other stallions if there were mares in the mix, and she didn’t want any of the horses to get hurt.
Yet Ben knew what he was doing. He led the horse to the opposite side of the glen from the mares and put him in a corral with two other stallions. Then he took the halter off, came back out, closed the gate and turned to watch what the stallion would do. Before long it was clear the horse was more interested in drinking from the stream and eating than in fighting the other stallions. The other horses did not seem to be bothered by him either and both Ben and Alison breathed easier.
Satisfied, Alison turned and walked back down the glen to the cottages. She loved the gossip as much as anyone and knew she was missing out. Alison was fourth from the eldest of the nine sisters and they grew up in such seclusion, they did not even hear about the plague until it was well over with. For them, the news of the day had more to do with something stupid their father or brothers did. The MacGreagors led such interesting lives and if it took the rest of her life, Alison intended to hear it all.
When the sisters first came to live with the MacGreagors, Alison tried to get to know all the people. Yet sooner or later, all the people wanted to know about the nine sisters and she grew weary of the telling. What was there to say about such boring lives anyway? To avoid the problem Alison was perfectly happy with getting her news secondhand from the widow, Millin, who could always be counted on to know everything about everyone.
By the time she walked past all the new cottages and got back to the courtyard, most of the people were outside discussing what they’d heard. Each time one asked if she’d heard, she lied and said she had.
“Treachery,” one woman said.
“Betrayal,” said another.
Alison’s interest was piqued indeed and she began to walk just a little faster.
CHAPTER II
BECAUSE IT WAS DEEMED unfair for the MacGreagors to get new homes while the MacClurgs remained in the old ones, Neil had them all draw lots. It turned out that the sisters were given two of the older cottages near the Keep. It enabled Neil’s guards to see to their safety better, or so he explained, even though Charlotte drew a lot for a newer cottage. It was also assumed the sisters would eventually marry and move into new cottages anyway.
For Alison, the old cottage was home and she treated it as such, giving it a good cleaning every day and adding adornments to the walls as though she intended to live in it forever—which she did.
The Widow Millin MacClurg did not mind staying in the older home she shared with her husband until the plague took him. Except for her claim that she could still hear his voice occasionally, Alison did not deem the widow to be too daft. In fact, she enjoyed Millin’s company more than most. It helped that their cottages were next to each other.
Anxious to hear it all, Alison stuck her head in the open door. “What is treachery?”
“Oh, my dear,” Millin paused to put a hand to her heart and catch her breath. She liked to wear her light brown hair in one long braid down her back, even though the luster of youth was gone and a touch of gray was evident throughout. At forty-one, she was the eldest of the elders, except for Cobb. “Our poor Bethia has been beaten.”
Truly shocked, Alison pulled a chair away from the table and quickly sat down opposite her. A sword that once belonged to Millin’s husband, hung on the wall together with his belt, dagger and tools. Below them on a small table, was one lone candle Millin always lit at night. Other than that, the place had no distinguishing marks. It was a simple one room, complete with a bed, table and chairs. “Why was she beaten?”
It was not a logical question since in the minds of the MacClurgs and the MacGreagors, no woman deserved a beating. Millin was used to hearing unusual questions from the girl who lived so long in seclusion. “The English need no reasons, but she was accused of stealing. Bethia admits she did steal, but not until after the beating. Oh, my, I am confused. I think she stole the horse after, but anyway it does not matter because Hannish killed the lads who hurt her. And then he asked her to marry him. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Well, yes, I suppose it is. Hannish is going to marry Bethia?”
“And Brendan wishes to marry Greer, who used to be English, but now she is a MacGreagor. Naturally, Greer has not yet accepted.”
“Naturally...I guess.”
“Well who would want to marry so quickly with all these unmarried lads to choose from? Will you sing for Bethia tonight my dear? She so deserves to be happy.”
“Of course we will. Millin, I heard someone say something about betrayal. Do you...”
Again Millin put her hand over her heart. “Oh, my dear, I must say I was not so fond of the MacGreagors when they first came to live with us. I mean, some were very pushy and if it had not been for Neil’s wisdom and Walrick’s brute strength, the clans would have fought long before now. Yet the more I hear of what the MacGreagors have been through, the more I pity them and am happy to see them safe.”
“Millin, you were telling about betrayal.”
“Oh, my dear, ‘tis the worst. A laird in th
eir homeland betrayed them and caused the deaths of several MacGreagors. Hannish killed him as well.”
“Hannish.” Alison bit her lip thoughtfully. “I do not believe I know him.”
“I doubt you do. Neil sent eight lads back to gather the lost just after you came to us, and he was one of them. I believe he and Brendan are the last to return.” Millin sighed. “This may be our last homecoming celebration.”
“I wonder how many are still missing.”
“I do not know, but I wager Neil does. He seems to know everyone by name.”
“Did the old laird know everyone’s name?”
“Knox? God have mercy, nay. Knox was lucky to remember his own name on most occasions. A mean lad, that one. Gelson killed him in a fair fight.” Millin brushed the snippets of hair out of her face and took a sip of water. “I heard Neil knows the names because his father made a game of it when Neil was just a laddie. He will no doubt do the same with Justin.”
Alison smiled. If ever she wanted to know something about anyone, she knew just who to come to. Millin knew it all and never once sent her to ask someone else. She fondly put her hand over Millin’s. “Will you come to hear us sing tonight?”
“I would not miss it.”
AFTER THE EVENING MEAL, the people began to gather and soon they began to whisper the same word, “Sisters.” It was like a game...they whispered it, and then said it, and then shouted it until the grinning sisters came out of the cottages and went to the front of the Keep, where they raised their voices first in one song and then another.
Alison tried to remember which one was Bethia. Of a truth, she had been more interested in the horse, and when she saw a smiling woman leaning against a man who had his arms around her from behind, she guessed that was her. She smiled at them both, but probably wouldn’t bother to get to know them either. There didn’t seem to be any need. Then as she scanned the crowd, she recognized the man who took Bethia’s magnificent stallion away. He had brown hair and piercing blue eyes, so piercing she had to quickly look away. Just as quickly she vowed never to look at them again.
Marti Talbott's Highlander Series, Volume 4 Page 6