Megan Denby

by A Thistle in the Mist

  I walked Dr. Bennett down to the door and he passed me a small packet.

  “Heather tonic. It’ll ease the sufferin’, lass.” He peered around the empty foyer then leaned in and stared at me in earnest. “Something is no right, Meara. She’s bin givin’ him somethin’ besides the garlic, surely. Ye must get him away from here!” The urgency in his voice worsened the dread in my belly and I knew whom he spoke of when he referred to “she”. I wanted so badly to tell him of my suspicions but Deirdre’s heavy feet had halted near the top of the stairs and I knew she listened.

  “Aye, Doctor.”

  When I turned from the door and peered up I felt an eerie sense of familiarity as I saw her skirts slide into the shadows. Daisy trotted down the hall from the kitchen and I scooped her into my arms and kissed her sweet face. Naturally Deirdre was gone when I reached the top of the stairs. I turned and looked back down to the foyer, at the russet stain that forever marked the floor at the base of the stairs and I thought of all that we’d lost as I scratched behind Daisy’s ears.

  I walked slowly as I made my way back to Da’s chambers. I informed Deirdre I would ride into Uig first thing in the morning and investigate our options, then book passage for Da, myself and Hannah, perhaps to India. I had read that India’s climate helped lung conditions though I knew nothing of the journey to such a far-off place. I suggested to Deirdre that she remain at Duntulm to oversee its running.

  She stared at Daisy who was kissing my face and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Then she met my eyes and smiled and her answer surprised me, “Aye, Meara. Yer poor father is far more ill than I thought. I’ll get the funds ready for ye then.”

  Her sympathy made me suspicious, but concern for Da swept her from my mind. As she left the room, I deposited Daisy on Da’s lap. She stared up at him expectantly and when he didn’t respond she hopped off his lap and followed me across the room, her nails clicking on the stone. I pulled open his wardrobe, pulled out a large trunk and began to gather his clothing.

  “We’ve got some packin’ to do, my wee Daisy.” Daisy answered me with a sharp bark and a vigorous wag of her tail that shook her entire back end. I couldn’t help but smile at my perky dog as I piled the clothes in the trunk.

  The next morning Da was gone.

  ******

  As we slept, Deirdre claimed she had sent my father away to get well. She thought two daughters tagging along would only slow his recovery. She refused to tell me where he was as she knew, and rightly so, that I would go to him.

  Blessed Christ! How did I let this happen? How could I have been such an idiot? She played me for a fool and I fell for it, I silently berated myself.

  Where was Da? What had she done with him? I didn’t trust her for a moment.

  I sent a message to Dunvegan and asked that Duncan try to locate my father should he be home. I hoped it was not too late. I didn’t know if Deirdre had sent him overseas or just hidden him inland. More sinister thoughts began to take shape but I shoved them from my head. I knew that Duncan, if anyone, would be able to find Da. There wouldn’t be too many men that fit my father’s description, seeking passage to somewhere dry. We would find him.

  And so, with Da conveniently out of the way, Deirdre revelled in her power. She had complete control over his coffers, his servants and his daughters.

  I understood this had been her intention all along.

  ******

  With Da gone, Hannah’s fragile state filled most of my time or I would have been lost to my guilt. Yet I had no intention of letting Deirdre take away the only thing I had left – my spirit. I’m certain Deirdre assumed in my father’s absence I would be submissive and I probably should have been, if only to make things easier on myself, but I had never been good at respecting someone who didn’t deserve it.

  So I took delight in adopting Aunt Deirdre’s nasal voice when speaking directly to her.

  “Are ye mockin’ me, Meara?”

  “Oh no, Aunt Deirdre, I could never sound as refined as yerself.” And no more than a step behind, I shadowed her unfortunate gait, the long stride, feet pointed out, head jutting forward from my extended neck and arms hanging at my sides. For some reason, Deirdre didn’t find my pranks nearly as entertaining as the servants did.

  Her anger and resentment grew and I knew I trod dangerously but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

  The first time she hit me I was stunned. No one had ever raised a hand to me. I refused to cry which only fanned her anger. For some sadistic reason her fury encouraged me. No matter how many times she cuffed me across the head or shoved me into a wall, I triumphed in the fact that I was causing her even a small amount of misery.

  And Sloan, well Sloan could always be found lurking in the shadows, a disquieting fervour lighting his eyes. Deirdre’s younger brother, from the day he had slunk into our home, had shown a disturbing interest in Hannah and me but now with no one left to protect us, he grew bold. He did not bother to disguise his desire, especially for my sweet Hannah. He watched her, his pale eyes alight with something dark. Hannah didn’t notice but I did. And what I saw scared me. I rarely left her alone and I asked the servants to keep watch over her.

  Almost a year had passed since I’d lost Mother, one month since Da had disappeared. Duncan was home again and I prayed every night that Napoleon would go back to France and leave everyone be. Duncan had searched all of the departure records and asked at the docks but no one remembered seeing a man of Da’s description. I felt relieved with Duncan close by but still couldn’t bring myself to tell him how bad things had got. He’d be leaving again soon and I didn’t want him to worry.

  The glow of innocence had deserted Hannah and at sixteen, as her figure blossomed, I knew she would be just as bonnie as our mother had been. Hannah’s burgeoning young body did not escape Deirdre. I sensed her envy as her eyes flitted over Hannah, nostrils flared, yet oddly pinched at the same time. No doubt she was reminded of my mother and I watched cautiously each day as her resentment seemed to mount.

  Then finally, without warning, she went too far.

  On an early August morning, as the fingers of dawn parted the night sky, Deirdre roused us from our beds to help Edme with the wash.

  The morning smelled fresh, newly cleaned from the rain of the night before and I thought it ironic that the world continued to flower and grow while the residents of Duntulm drooped and withered.

  As was her custom, Deirdre hovered close by, foot tapping, arms folded over her chest while she watched our every move.

  Hannah, bleary-eyed and not fully awake, struggled beneath the weight of a basket of wet clothes. I heard her exclamation and turned as she tripped over the cobbled path, the laundry spilling across the muddy ground. Hannah looked up in fear and cowered pitifully as Deirdre swooped in and cuffed the back of her head.

  “Ye dunderheid! Look what ye’ve done!” she shrieked into Hannah’s terrified face.

  And just like that something popped in my head. I hurled my own basket to the ground and charged at my aunt. I shoved her from Hannah then grabbed her arm. She screamed but I was beyond caring and wrenched the bony appendage up behind her back. Though she towered over me, I trapped her for a moment and sent Hannah scurrying to the haven of Mary and Janet’s kitchen. Then I shoved Deirdre from me and she fell to the ground; nothing more than a pile of rubbish. I wanted to rip her eyes from her head but instead I leaned down into her face and hollered, “Ye bloody bitch! Dinna ever touch my sister agin!”

  Her mouth hung wide, like the unhinged jaw of a snake. But she quickly recovered and scrambled to her feet, surprisingly nimble for one so tall and awkward. Before I had time to react, she smacked my cheek with such force that a ringing filled my head.

  I stared into her mean eyes for a moment then turned and ran.

  THREE

  August 1808

  Duncan

  My face burned as I escaped across the dew-slick moor. My lungs screamed for air. I glanced back over my shoulder. No one fol
lowed me. Yet. The soggy hem of my gown wrapped around my foot and I sprawled, the wind knocked from my chest. I glared at my muddy palms, the claws of my rage tearing to get out. Balling my fists, I pounded the damp earth over and over until finally I dropped my head onto my arms.

  “Christ’s blood, I hate her!” I railed, my voice a ragged intrusion on the still morning. “I hate her!”

  Rolling onto my back, I pressed my palm to the heat of my face then tiptoed my fingers along the handprint that branded my cheek. I took a deep breath and felt the gradual unclenching of my body. She could beat me as much as she wanted but I would not let her win. I would not! I laced my fingers behind my head and stared up at the swirling grey.

  A white-tailed eagle emerged from the mist and soared overhead, weighing the currents with arrogant ease as it glided in and out of the roiling fog, barn door wings spread wide. I looked to the south where the far-off peaks of the Cuillin Mountains straddled the isle, jagged purple tips stabbing the sky above the haze. Swivelling my head, I picked out the distant smudge of Duntulm, the place I used to think of as home.

  Silence curtained the morning. I watched a pearl of dew hang suspended for a moment, before it slid down the stem of a daisy. A flash of yellow drew my eye as a wagtail came alive in a stand of birch, the leaves disturbed by the wiggle of his long tail feathers. An aura of earth and heather drew me into its embrace and I breathed deep, the familiar bouquet a balm for my ravaged soul.

  The eagle screamed and I found it again. With deadly purpose it swooped, powerful legs outstretched in a controlled dive, its razor talons cutting short a wasted plea. I watched as it somersault-landed then commenced its morning meal, its hooked beak plucking loose tufts of fur that floated away on the breeze.

  Feeling a kinship with the doomed rabbit, I scrubbed at the sudden prick of tears then jerked my hands away. Earth stained my knuckles and I wiped the mess on the navy green of the heather. Hatred swelled in my throat and I swallowed, but the lump stayed where it was, intent upon choking me.

  How did this happen? How has it come to this? I asked myself.

  Images of Mother flooded my mind. I searched between my breasts and closed my fingers around my locket, smoothed my thumb over the curves. How sweet life had been, how innocent, until that wretched being had entered our lives. Memories crept from the safe place where I kept them protected but I tamped them back down and instead closed my eyes tight, watching shadows move back and forth across the back of my eyelids.

  Cicadas hummed as the temperature started to rise. The spicy note of heather filled my senses, the calming trickle of the burn’s tumbling waters lulling me in the background. As I teetered on the precipice of sleep, the sun broke through the mist and bathed my face in warmth, chasing the last of the shadows away. Calloused hands floated into my daydream. Tender fingers brushed the dirt from my face and I sighed as firm lips touched mine.

  I jolted awake. The lips that pressed mine were very real and very familiar.

  “Oh!” I squeaked.

  “Well, lass, judgin’ from yer smile, it was a good dream then?”

  Relieved, I looked up into the smirking face of Duncan MacLeod. His eyes, the lucid colour of the Scottish sky at noon, twinkled with mischief and the dimple on his cheek slashed deep.

  “Ah, it’s you my Duncan.”

  “Aye, lass, it’s me,” he answered with a grin as he settled down beside me.

  “How did ye find me?” I asked, peering up into his face.

  “Och, I took a chance that my wild lassie would be explorin’ the highlands alone.” He peered around the meadow, “And I see I was no wrong.”

  “Oh, aye, I’m quite alone!” I answered saucily, tilting my head and peering up at him from beneath my lashes. He wiggled his eyebrows at me and reached a finger out to touch my lower lip. Delight bubbled through me and I relaxed back on my scented pillow. Duncan traced the contours of my face, his warm fingers making me squirm, a longing building inside of me.

  “Ah, Meara,” he breathed as I reached up and sifted my fingers through the dark hair that brushed his collar.

  Heat spread low in my belly as Duncan’s lips found the curve of my neck and shoulder. He lifted his head and his eyes held mine as he cupped my face. Leaning down, he kissed me again, his tongue seeking mine. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. With the ferocity of a brush-fire, a want ignited and swept through me.

  Naked hunger darkened his eyes to midnight blue and stole the breath from my lungs. Suddenly shy, I lowered my eyes. A warm thumb and finger framed my chin and with gentle pressure he persuaded me to meet his burning gaze.

  His voice was hoarse when he spoke, “Meara, do ye ken how much I love ye, lass?”

  “Aye, Duncan,” I whispered, “and I you. Oh, I’ve missed ye so much, lad!”

  Sensations overflowed and I pulled him down onto me, clutching his head to my heart. Unfamiliar feelings bubbled through my body. The tips of my breasts touched my chemise, throbbing with an unknown ache. Duncan’s weight pressed between my legs, the cloth of his kilt doing little to mask his desire. A curious need hummed through me and suddenly confused I turned my face away.

  Duncan, knowing well my inexperience, sat up and pulled me into his lap, drawing me into his arms. “Ah, my love, ye need no be afeerd with me.”

  What I felt was definitely not fear. My heart beat loudly in my ears and I touched a shaking finger to my lips. No, definitely not fear. I settled my head against his chest and inhaled his familiar scent; spicy soap mingled with the pungent odour of his horse. I breathed a sigh of contentment.

  Distracted by the rush of love, neither of us noticed the lone figure who skulked in the shade of a nearby stand of pines.

  ******

  As my heart slowed, I gazed up at Duncan, secure in the cocoon of his arms.

  He peered down at my face then a groove settled between his brows and he gently touched my cheek. “Who did this to ye?” he asked, between tight teeth.

  So Deirdre’s handprint hadn’t faded yet. I ran my fingers across the welt then shrugged my shoulders. “Deirdre. Hannah spilled the laundry in the mud this morning and Deirdre hit her. Hard. I couldna’ just stand there and let her do that to my sister so I stopped her.” My words rushed together as I explained how I had stopped Deirdre. “I have to protect her, Duncan. There’s just the two of us now.” I turned around in his arms and stared hard into his eyes, willing him to understand.

  His hand closed around my arm. “Meara she’s saft in the head! I’m worried about ye. We ken what she’s capable of. Do ye hold yer tongue, lass, so she’ll leave ye be!”

  Duncan’s voice was sharp with concern and I couldn’t disguise my anger as I jerked my arm away, “What would ye have me do, Duncan? Thank her kindly for the beatin’ then turn the other cheek? I dinna much care if she smacks me about but I’ll no allow her to knivvle Hannah agin!” I fumed as I glared up at him.

  Hurt clouded Duncan’s eyes and instant regret nudged away my anger. Taking his hand, I continued in a gentler tone, “I’m much stronger than Hannah, ye ken. It willna take much to break her and I’m afeerd for her.” I traced the palm of his hand with the tip of my finger then looked back into his eyes. “I ken yer worried, Duncan, but Hannah needs my protection. Please understand, lad, for I’ll no step down to appease Deirdre.”

  He nodded. “Aye I do understand, Meara, but who’s goin’ to protect you?” His voice faltered and I felt the corners of my own mouth pull down. He cleared his throat and continued, “I admire yer courage but I hate what she’s doin’ to the two of ye. I didna ken things had got so bad, lass. I have to get you and yer sister away from that clarty woman and her brother. The two o’ them are bad. Please promise me ye’ll be careful.” He leaned in to me, and searched my eyes.

  Reaching up, I smoothed away the lines of worry and nodded, “Aye, I promise, lad.”

  He nodded and his fingers brushed my face then he curled a lock of my hair around his finger, a slow smile
spreading his lips to a wide grin. “Well now, my feisty lass, was she verra angry when ye tried to break her arm?” He tugged on my hair, a playful crook pulling at his lips.

  I couldn’t help the bellow of laughter that rolled from me as I snatched my hair from his grasp. “Aye, my love, she was pissed off all right! Wee Edme’s eyes nearly bugged out her head when I grabbed Deirdre’s bony old arm and then when I pushed her to her knees!” I allowed myself a wicked smile. “It was a sight to see and I’m sorry ye missed it!” I dissolved into giggles.

  My merriment was infectious and a chuckle rumbled from Duncan. Attempting a stern face, but failing miserably, he scolded, “Such a dirty mouth! Ye best be watchin’ the cursin’, lassie, or I’ll have to paddle that round bum!” He rubbed his hands together, eyes sparkling.

  My mouth dropped open but I quickly recovered. “Well, now I’d like to see ye catch me first, ye big burraidh,” I taunted, as I tried to extricate myself from his arms.

  Without warning, I found myself on my back, my arms pinned above my head, imprisoned by one strong hand. “That was a challenge then, lass?” His teeth flashed white and with his free hand he tickled the hollow of my armpit. ’Cause if that was a challenge, I accept!” Helpless now, I twisted my head back and forth and bucked my hips, giggling hysterically, until I couldn’t breathe. Just as quickly, my arms were released, and his lips found mine, stifling my laughter.

  Too soon he stopped and pulled me to a sitting position. The smile faded as he stared across the moor at the smudged purple and black of the Cuillin Mountains and the furrow settled between his brows once more.

  “What’s troublin’ ye, sweet Duncan?”

  “Ah, hiney,” He settled me on his lap and I leaned back, pressing my cheek to the rough wool of the plaid that looped over his left shoulder. The steady beat of his heart was good and his hands kneaded my shoulders as he explained, “I canna find yer Da, Meara. Ye ken I’ve checked the departure records from the port in Uig, and I’ve asked all over the village but no one seems to have seen him. He’s just disappeared. Deirdre must’ve hidden him well inland or falsified his records, ye ken.” I felt his chin rub my hair as he shook his head. “I guess he was in no condition to put up a fight.”