“Good mornin’, lassie.”
Angus.
Tears immediately pricked at the sound of his muffled voice. I pressed my ear to the door. “Oh, Angus.” I swallowed past the lump, “It’s so good to hear yer voice, man.”
“How are ye holdin’ up, lass?”
“I’m... I’m fine, Angus,” I lied. “How is everyone?”
With a screech of metal, the custom-made portal at the base of the door slid open and Angus’s voice warmed my heart. “We’re weel, lassie. Everyone sends their love. Janet’s gettin’ round and wee Flossie canna wait for a wee brither or sister.”
I smiled as I thought of the tow-headed Flossie.
“Mary and Janet are eager tae see ye but yer aunt willna let them come tae ye. She watches them. She thinks they’ll try tae help ye oot of here, ye ken.” I heard a soft snort from the other side of the door. “But she takes no notice of this auld man. Guess she just thinks I’m a harmless fool, eh lassie?” The forced humour was not lost on me and my gathering tears burned my eyes.
“Well, we ken better, Angus,” I answered, as I rubbed at my eyes.
A bowl, plate and mug were pushed through the opening on a small tray. The comforting aroma of oatmeal, bannocks and hot tea was good and my stomach answered with a loud rumble. Retrieving my breakfast, I placed it on the table and turned back to the door. Leaning down, I directed my voice to the opening, “Angus, I need ye to do somethin’ for me.”
“Ye ken I’ll do anythin’ for ye, lassie.” The familiar burr was a balm I needed badly.
“I need to speak to Hannah,” I said to the door. When there came no reply from the other side I remembered Angus was hard of hearing and raised my voice, “Angus?”
“Aye lassie, I heard ye.”
“Will ye ask her to come up, Angus... please?” Again silence. I had the feeling Angus’ reluctance to answer had nothing to do with his lack of hearing. My heart sped up and I began to pace back and forth in front of the door. “Is she too afraid to come then? Is that it? Did Deirdre find out? I havena talked to her for so long, Angus. There’s no somethin’ wrong is there?” My questions rushed together, hung suspended in the air, and were again met with hushed emptiness. My apprehension mounted. “Angus!”
I halted my pacing and stood before the closed door, twisting my wedding band round and round my swollen finger.
Seconds crept by before Angus finally answered. “Mmph, listen, lassie, Mary and Janet made me swear not tae tell ye. So as not tae worry ye, ye ken.”
My stomach lurched. “Tell me what? What’s wrong with Hannah? Angus ye must tell me!” I demanded, my voice shrill with panic.
Angus cleared his throat and I had to strain to hear his next words. “Yer wee sister is no doin’ weel, Meara. She’s skin and bone agin and willna speak tae any of us. We dinna ken what’s troublin’ the lass, Meara.”
Again a short cough, as Angus cleared his throat, letting me know just how upset he was. I imagined his kind face, creased with worry.
“I think mebbe she’s just missin’ ye, lassie. That’s all... nothin’ tae fash aboot.”
His attempt to reassure me was wasted as I answered, “I ken what’s wrong, Angus! It’s Sloan. I’m sure of it. Ye canna leave her alone! Do ye understand man? She’s so afraid of him!” My God, what had that monster done to her? “Ye must send her to me the now!”
Angus’ voice quavered, “Aye lassie, we ha’ been tryin’ tae keep the wee lass safe, tryin’ tae keep her wi’ us but the cailleach willna hear of it. She gives oot chores every day and weel she’s threatened us all.” There was silence for a moment then a series of coughs. “I’ll find her and send her up directly.”
“Aye,” was all I could manage.
I heard the shuffle of his feet. “Nou eat up that poshie and keep yerself and that wee bairn weel til the young laird comes for ye.”
“I will, Angus.”
I squatted down, straining around my swollen belly to reach through the opening. His calloused hand immediately closed around my own. It felt so good, so safe. Then with a gentle squeeze he let go.
“Aye, wee lassie, ye take care then.”
His uneven step sounded on the stairs, gradually fading to nothing. I stood with my ear to the cold door until the only thing I heard was my own breath.
I turned back to the food that Mary had sent up. Worry for Hannah burned in the pit of my stomach. My appetite was gone.
Then Angus’ words echoed through my mind; keep the wee bairn healthy.
I picked up the spoon. As the glutinous oatmeal slid down my throat, I retched and was only able to take a few mouthfuls before pushing the bowl aside where it sat by the plate of cold bannocks. Cupping the lukewarm mug of tea in my hands, I walked to the south window that faced Duncan’s castle.
The sky had opened and was purging with an angry mix of weather. Dense flakes swirled; a wild pirouette upon the wind. Sleet clattered against the window and bounced off the courtyard far below. I pressed my forehead to the cold glass, my unseeing eyes hypnotised by the blizzard.
“Ah Duncan, come back to us, lad. We need ye so.”
******
Hannah shivered in the doorway, Daisy cuddled in her arms. With a furtive glance around the room, she tiptoed into the study. Deirdre had ordered her to clean this room again. Mary had been out collecting eggs from the henhouse and Janet had attempted to intervene on her behalf, asking that Hannah help in the kitchen. Deirdre had tried to stare the servant down but when Janet had become adamant Deirdre’s response had been cryptic.
“Hannah will earn her keep like everyone else. The study needs to be dusted and ye dinna need any help til lunch. Stay out of affairs that dinna concern ye, Janet. It would be a shame if yer husband was lost at sea or if wee Flossie wondered off into moors and was taken by a wolf.”
Janet had drained of colour while Hannah’s heart sank.
Apprehension had been her constant companion for weeks now, eating away at her slowly from the inside. She could only keep a little food down and then the skitters took it right away.
Reluctantly she set Daisy down then, with trembling fingers, she ran the duster over the surface of the desk and trod softly to the fireplace. She warmed her cold hands over the flames before reaching up to dust the brass plates that lined the mantle. A painting of her family still hung above the fireplace. Somehow Deirdre had missed this one when she’d cleared every last trace of the MacDonald family from the castle. Hannah paused to peer up at it, a mist of tears curtaining her eyes.
Her mother gazed from the piece of art, serene happiness softening her blue eyes. Da’s copper curls had been captured with feathery strokes of the artist’s brush. Meara stood next to her father, shoulders straight, saucy determination, as always, glinting in her green eyes. Hannah looked next at the likeness of herself. She sat, docile, on her mother’s lap, her face glowing with sweet innocence.
Innocence.
The tears promised to spill from Hannah’s eyes as she reached up and tiptoed her fingers across the painting’s rough surface.
A small ‘click’ came from behind, accompanied by Daisy’s low growl and Hannah spun around.
“Och, how touchin’ is this? Ye bring a tear to my eye, lass.” Sloan leaned casually against the closed door of the study, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his pigeon chest. Hungry eyes travelled the length of her body while his tongue snaked out to moisten his lips.
Hannah’s sharp intake of breath was audible, her fear tangible. She backed away as a single tear overflowed and gradually rolled down one ashen cheek.
Sloan could feel her terror and it excited him. The throbbing that had started between his legs, intensified tenfold as he watched her clean. He closed his eyes and relished the exquisite feeling. With a long sigh, he opened his shining eyes and smiled at her.
Nonchalantly, he reached over his shoulder. With a click of finality, he locked the door and advanced on her.
“Please. No,” she whi
spered, her voice tremulous, “not again.” She held her hands before her in supplication, eyes glazed with horror.
Power surged through his body and Sloan felt himself grow even harder. It was at that moment that Daisy chose to attack. She was almost ten and her back legs were stiff with age but nonetheless she charged at the beast she sensed was threatening her Hannah. With a snarl she jumped up and nipped at his crotch then hunched down and latched onto his ankle, her sharp teeth instantly drawing blood. Sloan easily shook her free and with a roar brutally kicked the small animal across the room. As she lay stunned, Sloan snatched up the fire poker and advanced on her.
“No!” Hannah cried, rushing forward, “Please don’t!”
Without turning, Sloan carefully replaced the fire poker, calmly unlatched the door and booted the semi-conscious animal into the corridor then secured the door again and turned with a smile. As though nothing had happened, he rubbed up and down until he felt himself grow hard again. He stared at the young girl who was backing away and his voice was low with restraint as he spoke, “All right, I spared the stupid bitch but now you owe me. Shall I remind ye agin what I’ll do tae yer sister if ye resist?” The question hung between them for a brief moment.
Hannah bowed her head in submission. Silent tears dripped from her chin and onto the desk. She felt Sloan press against her from behind before he reached forward to push the curtain of hair back from her face.
“There’s a good lassie.”
******
Cursing the rheumatism that pained his legs and slowed his walk, Angus hobbled past the closed door of the study, intent upon finding Hannah. As he passed the door he heard a whimper and bent to retrieve the trembling form of Daisy.
“Och, wee Daisy, yer in worse shape than auld Angus. Let’s go see if Mary has a wee scrap for yer belly.”
Daisy whimpered again and Angus did not hear the low moans from within the study as he cuddled the forlorn pet to his chest and continued down the hall.
ELEVEN
As If By Chance... The Letters
The blizzard clawed at the windows, the glass rattling beneath its force. The howl of the wind intruded on my thoughts. The storm agitated my nerves and enhanced my black mood.
Hannah hadn’t come yet and frustration feasted on my innards. Like rust corroding metal, hot bile ate at the lining of my throat as I paced back and forth in front of the windows.
What is going on downstairs? Why isn’t anyone letting me know what the hell is happening to my sister? I raged to myself.
I wandered over to the bookcase and selected one of the worn volumes. Plopping down on the bed, I settled back against my pillows.
The familiar story blurred as my eyes slid out of focus. Thoughts ran over one another, refusing to be ignored. Blinking several times, I massaged my temples. A second attempt proved fruitless. The letters blended together into a solid line as Hannah filled my mind.
“Christ’s blood!”
I jerked from my bed and slammed the book down on the shelf. The unsteady bookcase listed and books slid off the top, crashing haphazardly to the floor.
Sighing, I knelt to pick up the mess. A piece of paper fluttered from one of the books as I stood up. I bent again, my ripe belly tipping me off balance. Retrieving the paper, I moved to the window. Watery light played across the sheet, revealing an old sketch.
I caught my breath as Mother’s luminous eyes stared back at me. Her lilting voice trilled in my head, ‘Meara, my lassie, the Lord has blessed ye with a talent.’ She had held both my hands in hers, cerulean eyes peering into mine. ‘When ye find yer hands idle, use this gift, it’ll bring ye peace, child.’
The room seemed suddenly brighter. The sweet scent of honeysuckle permeated the air. Something feathered my cheek. As with the other times, there was no doubt in my mind that Mother was with me.
A shiver tingled down my spine as I ran my fingers over my face. I scanned the room and sniffed at the air.
“Mother?” I murmured, my voice small and hesitant. I yearned to see her, feel her, but as with the other times I was only teased with her essence.
Rubbing my arms, I glanced back down at the sketch and my mind was taken back.
Pneumonia had afflicted me the winter I turned twelve. Mother had kept vigil at my bedside throughout those endless days, applying mustard plasters to my chest to break the congestion. When the fever had almost taken me, her gentle hands had bathed my face with cool water. Those same gentle hands were strong as she had massaged the muscles of my aching legs and arms. Each time I had opened my eyes I knew she would be there and she had been.
The pneumonia had passed but had left me weak. Not used to being confined to my bed, boredom had claimed me and I’d become a bad-tempered patient. Mother never lost her patience but had read to me, told me stories.
Then one day Mother hurried into my room, arms laden with bundles of parchment and boxes of charcoal. Her smile dazzled me as she plied me with gifts.
The next few weeks had passed relatively quickly as I’d sketched everything in my line of vision. After numerous attempts, I’d perfected my mother’s delicate features. As my body healed, I was allowed to leave my bed for short periods. Sitting by the window, the winter landscape, the dark peaks of the Cuillin rising like some great castellated stronghold in the background, became my next subject.
The day came when Dr. Bennett declared me well enough to leave my room and no one could keep me indoors. Spring had snuck up while I lay convalescing and Caulley whinnied impatiently to me from the stable.
The paper and charcoal had been stowed away in a cupboard and I had returned to my livelier pursuits. Never one to sit still unless made to, the opportunity had never arisen for me to take up my old pastime and I had not thought of it again.
Her words had encouraged me then, when I had been twelve, and now echoing in my ears, Mother’s words spurred me on. I searched through the wooden cupboard by the window for charcoal and paper. Toys spilled out and piled up beside me as I searched.
I was interrupted by a soft knock and I turned quickly.
“Hannah? Is that you, lassie?” Tripping over the toys, I blundered to the door.
“Aye, Meara, it’s me. Angus told me ye wanted to speak to me,” she answered, her voice strangely hollow.
“Where have ye been, Hannah? I’ve been so worried for ye, lassie! What’s kept ye from me? Is it Sloan? Has he touched ye agin?” My voice rose as I voiced my worst fears.
There was a moment of empty silence then I had to strain to hear her answer, “Nay, Meara, he hasna come near me. It’s just that... well Deirdre’s been keepin’ me so busy with extra chores,” she faltered. “That’s all.”
She was lying. I could hear it in the strain of her voice. She had never been good at telling a fib. She had usually left that up to me. “Hannah, what’s happened to ye, hiney?” I bent down to the portal. “Let me see yer face, lass.” Squatting down, I rolled onto my side and stretched my neck to the opening. Hannah’s small feet stayed motionless in front of me then she finally bent down too.
I couldn’t hold back the shock that I knew had taken my face. She was gaunt, her cheeks hollow and her eyes - there was something about her eyes I’d never seen. Desperation? Sorrow? No. Something else. Something worse. My heart sank. “Oh no, Hannah, what has he done to ye?”
She blinked slowly but her eyes remained dry. Then she shook her head, her eyes cast down, avoiding mine. “Nothin’, Meara. It’s nothin’. I’m just so tired and... and I miss ye. And I miss Mother and Da.” Her voice trembled and the corners of her mouth turned down as she struggled not to cry. “I’m just feelin’ a wee bit sorry for myself, Meara. Dinna fash about me. It’s you who’s locked up.”
She reached through the portal and I grabbed for her cold hand, as someone who is drowning might grab for a lifeline. I was desperate to hold her, desperate to feel her and comfort her. I wanted to pull her small body through the opening and keep her safe with me.
“I
best go now, Meara. Deirdre’ll be lookin’ for me. She watches me closely ye ken, so dinna fash if I canna come to ye agin for a time.”
I started to protest but she interrupted, her voice bright, “Rabbie says the battle’s done, Meara. Napoleon’s givin’ up. So Duncan’ll be back soon as he promised. Soon you and your bairn will be free.”
“Lassie go to Rabbie. Have him take ye away to Dunvegan. I dinna ken who’s there but ye’ll be safer there than here. Go to him, hiney. Please. Run away. Save yerself.”
She smiled then, a sad smile. “Meara, ye always were dramatic. I’m fine. I dinna need to run away. I just need to sleep.”
Though I held tight, her fingers slid from mine and were gone. “I have to go now.”
“Nay, Hannah, dinna go just yet. Stay a wee bit longer, lass,” I begged.
“I have to go, Meara.” Her voice was muffled but I detected a tremor. “I must help Mary and Janet with the lunch.”
I thrust my hand through the door and she bowed down and took it in hers.
“I love ye, Hannah. Promise me ye’ll think about leavin’. Promise me!”
She hesitated a little too long. “Aye Meara, I’ll think about it.”
Then she tugged her hand from mine and the metal portal screeched shut.
“Good-bye, Hannah!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Hannah?”
It was then that I realised she had not included herself when she said Duncan was coming back to save us. I stared at the closed door, the desolate wind crying at the windows.
******
Hannah’s shoulders slumped as she turned her back on her sister. She crept down the steep, dark stairs, her descent made more treacherous by the tears that shimmered before her. Despair lurked heavy in her breast. She was alone. So alone. The impenetrable walls of her shattered mind surrounded her like the bars of a prison.
She did not believe Duncan was coming back. It had been too long. Even if he did come for them, it was too late for her. What good would it do to run away? Sloan would just come after her. She was certain of that. No one could save her now. She was ruined, damaged beyond repair. Sloan had seen to that. No one could love her now. The best she could do now was to keep her mouth shut, keep her sickening secret to herself and keep Meara safe from that monster.
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