Fia Mackintosh.
The last vision he had of her was as she ran from the cave as he threw himself at the others. To protect her. Then, in spite of them searching the camp for her, she was gone.
As she spoke to someone outside the room bits of memory floated before him. Her standing over him saying things a young woman should never say. The touch of her hand on his burning skin. Her hair cascading over him as she bathed him with cool water. The other part of him seemed to be working well if he judged its reaction to his thoughts of the lass.
The latch on the door lifted and it opened slowly. She came into his view slowly and he realised she was trying not to disturb him. He watched through nearly closed lids as she pushed it open with her hip and carried the tray inside. After setting it on one of the stools, she closed the door just as quietly as she’d opened it. He savoured the moment when he could watch her before she found him awake.
She moved around the chamber at ease, now dressed in a plain but clean gown. Her hair lay gathered in a braid that swung from one hip to the other as she walked and put things down. She’d not looked at him yet so he supposed he’d been asleep for a while and had not been expected to wake at this time. Niall enjoyed seeing her in the day’s light and without need for a lantern. He saw then the small, open window near the ceiling, its shutters thrown open to let in the light. Without meaning to, Niall moved his leg and the pain made him gasp, bringing her attention to him.
Fia met his gaze with a gasp of her own and then ran to kneel by his side...and burst into tears. She tried to speak and then got up and left the chamber, this time letting the door bang closed with a resounding thump.
Niall tried to follow her, forgetting about the extent of his injuries, and paid a terrible price. But he could use the one thing that still worked.
‘Fia!’ he yelled, holding his arms across his chest to keep himself steady when the urge to cough followed close by.
He heard footsteps coming down a corridor outside the door and then a woman spoke. Not Fia but an older woman from the sound of it.
‘Weel, at least he didna die,’ she said. ‘Here now, dearie, dinna greet so.’ The latch lifted once more and a woman almost the size of the doorway stood there with Fia. ‘Go on in wi’ ye, lass. He looks as worried aboot ye as ye are aboot him.’ Fia stepped into the chamber, but now her easy manner and motion were replaced by hesitancy.
‘Fia, are you well?’ he asked her when he understood he could speak again. She nodded, almost shyly, at his question. ‘Come here.’ He patted the bed next to him and she crossed the room to him. When she glanced back at the woman, he knew she was nervous.
‘I wi’ bring ye something more filling than that broth,’ the woman said. ‘Yer sister has been mightily worried about ye.’
‘Sister?’ he asked quietly after the door closed and the woman’s steps faded down the corridor.
‘I did not know what to say other than to claim kinship with you. Saying otherwise would simply raise more questions and consequences.’
Consequences like being married. For in the Highlands old customs still held sway, and some said that claiming another as your spouse before witnesses made the act indeed true. He smiled then, once more so impressed by her quick thinking and intelligence.
‘Where is this place?’ he asked, trying to sit up. His head spun so badly, he stopped and lay back down.
‘Crieff,’ she said. ‘This is a small inn and Mistress Murray owns it.’
‘How can it be Crieff? We were in the west, almost to the coast there and now we are...’ With no recollection of travelling at all, he was struck dumb by it. How could he, she, they, have made it all this way? Especially with him in such a sad state. ‘Tell me how you accomplished this.’
As she began her tale, Niall realised he’d never heard the lass talk so much. Her explanation of what had happened sounded much like the stories told in the King’s court to entertain his guests. He also noticed that the entire time she spoke, she tended to him—holding a cup or the bowl of broth for him to drink, smoothing the sheet and blankets that covered him, helping him wash his face and hands and more.
If she was to be believed, she had knocked out Martainn with a girdle, tended to his injuries and helped Niall on a horse, ridden to the next village, stopped at a monastery to seek a healer, travelled with merchants and used their half-empty wagon to bring him this far.
Her face lit up during some parts of her story and darkened with worry at others. When she finished, he could not remember all of it but was astounded by what he did. Yet not once did she say why.
Why had she done this for him? Why had she risked her life and safety instead of simply waiting for her chieftain to arrive? Why was he even still alive?
‘Why?’
He didn’t mean to say it aloud, but once he had, he waited for her answer. He’d done nothing but drag her into the middle of even more danger than she’d been in during the attack on her village. He’d brought her into a clandestine hunt he could not reveal. She risked everything for...what? Who?
She seemed startled by his question. The only one he’d asked throughout her whole explanation. But, of all of it, all the people and places and the rest, it was the one he needed to know.
‘Why?’ she repeated, her green eyes wide.
‘Why did you do this, Fia? You could have, nay, should have, left that mountain and gone back to your people. You could have just seen to your own protection and safety. Only a daft person would...do what you did.’
‘You trusted me and saved my life. I thought I should save yours.’
The words somehow startled her and shocked the piss out of him.
For so long in his life, no one had worried over him. No one had asked for his trust and he’d given it to no one. He did not trust his godfather to fulfil his promises. He did not trust any of the men he’d worked with or those in the gang he’d joined. Then this woman had been plucked from her own life and yet remained when others would have run.
He had so many questions for her, but his head began to spin and his words slurred. Niall fought it. He wanted to speak with her. The ring? Did she yet have it? His body had other ideas for it dragged him down towards the darkness. The soft touch of her hand on his head eased his worry.
‘You must rest,’ she whispered against his ear. ‘I will watch over you. And worry not for your belongings are safe.’
* * *
Fia watched as his eyes drifted closed and he fell back to sleep. This time, he’d managed to stay awake for longer than the four or five times before. As Mistress Murray and Glynis, her cousin the healer, told Fia, this could and would happen any numbers of times before he would be strong enough to remain awake and conscious. Injuries like he’d suffered could have serious affects.
She brushed his hair from his face with her hand and tucked the blankets up over his shoulders as he slept. He’d taken more of the broth and watered ale this time than the last and surely that must be a good sign. That he remembered nothing—again—could not be.
Fia had invented a story of ruffians attacking them, brother and sister they were, as they travelled to visit family in the south. She never mentioned Edinburgh or the King, only giving an unnamed destination. The village they’d found first were hospitable and the wise woman there helped her with his injuries. And sent her to the monastery on the road south for more help.
The good brothers kept Iain there for several days and nights seeing to the worst of things and stabilising his leg so it would heal correctly. When a group of merchants travelling south stopped there for the night, the abbot arranged for her and Iain to join them. All along the way, she used his coins to pay for what they needed. Crieff, a large market town, seemed the best place to stop and allow Iain to heal.
She’d not dared to send off that ring to the King as he’d asked. She would
more likely be arrested for thievery herself if she tried. So, she kept it hidden away and waited for him to wake so he could decide about it. And, tell her about this connection with the King.
And all the while, she kept a sharp watch for any of the outlaws. She thought they would scatter now, afraid of being discovered, afraid of capture. Fia suspected that they would not pursue the two of them into a market town so close to Edinburgh like this and risk being identified by her.
He sighed in his sleep and then mumbled words she could not understand. Fia sat on one of the stools and watched him for several moments. Nay, he was not waking again. When she heard footsteps down the corridor, she rose and opened the door, not wanting anyone to knock and disturb him.
‘Lass, how is he?’ Mistress Murray asked in a whisper. Peeking her head in the door, she nodded. ‘Puir mon...he does need his rest.’
‘He drank the broth and took some ale as well this time,’ Fia said. ‘Let me get the bowl.’
Fia gathered up the bowl and spoon and cup and followed Mistress Murray back into the kitchen. She greeted several of the servants along the way, now knowing all their names. Without pausing, Fia washed the dishes in the large bucket used for that purpose and left them to dry.
‘Och, now, lass,’ Mistress Murray began. ‘I hiv told ye that ye dinna hiv to do that. Ye are a paying customer and ’tis no’ right for ye to do the work of servants.’
‘I am deeply in your debt for everything you have done for us,’ Fia said. ‘If not for you and your help, Iain would not have survived.’
It was true. A fortuitous meeting with the woman had yielded a place to stay that was clean and safe. Mistress Murray called in her cousin who was as experienced and talented as Margaret Mackintosh was, to Iain’s benefit.
‘Weel, now that he is on the mend, it should be no time at all before you can travel to your family. In the south, did ye say?’
Mistress Murray, like most people, liked to gossip. As an innkeeper in her own right, a widow who kept her late husband’s business after his death, gossip was as valuable as coins for trading amongst the other merchants in the town. The one who knew what was happening was valued. And Mistress Murray made it her role to pry into the lives and goings-on of her customers. Fia watched as the woman took her hand and patted it.
‘Would ye be going to Edinburgh or even further into the borderlands?’ The woman turned away to a task as though the information did not truly matter. She was good at this. Almost as good as Fia’s own mother. ‘I will keep an ear open if I hear anyone travelling south who could accommodate ye. I am certain ye’ve no wish to travel alone after what has happened.’
‘Nigh to Kelso,’ she said. That was where Iain said he was born. She’d given the name in the prayer book as theirs when asked. Iain and Fia Corbett, late of Inverness, on their way home to the borders. ‘I would appreciate your help when the time comes.’
‘Peigi! Get a bowl of that stew!’ the innkeeper called out to one of the servants. ‘And the fresh bread.’
A few moments later, a steaming bowl of thick, aromatic stew sat before her with a chunk of still-warm bread. A crock of butter arrived just after it.
‘Go on wi’ ye, then!’ she said, handing her a spoon. ‘Ye look like death yerself. If ye dinna rest ye wi’ be the next one stuck abed, lass.’
Fia could not resist the smell of the stew. It had been the one joy of staying here after those days at the camp, cooking only what she had to use. This inn, the best one in Crieff the merchant’s wife had told her, was known for their food and clean beds. And, as she dipped once more into the stew, worthy of every one of Iain’s coins she spent to secure them a private chamber with meals included.
Mistress Murray never stopped moving even as she talked with Fia. The woman ordered the servants around, called out to other customers in the public room and cleaned and arranged dishes, pots and pans. All without losing her place in their conversation and all without pause. Fia appreciated being around people again, just as she was in Drumlui. And sitting in the kitchen, amidst the bubbling pots and busyness, was always one of her favourite places.
‘Hiv ye been out to walk yet, Fia?’
‘Nay, not today, Mistress,’ she said. She liked to walk the town, even running some errands for her landlady while Iain slept.
‘Get out there afore the rains arrive,’ she advised. Rubbing her shoulder, the woman tsked several times. ‘Rain is coming. Go, enjoy the sun while it deigns to show itself.’ When Fia would have refused, the woman shook her head. ‘I wi’ look in on him. Dinna worry.’
‘Have you anything for me to do?’ she asked. She always asked, for the woman had been a godsend to her these last days.
‘Nay, lass,’ she said with another shake of her head. ‘Just enjoy yer walk.’ When Fia would have washed this bowl, Mistress Murray waved her off, trying a stern expression this time.
‘My thanks, Mistress,’ she said. Grabbing her cloak, now emptied of all its treasures and supplies, from a peg next to the back door, Fia left the inn and stood for a moment to gain her bearings.
The day was a sunny one, warmer than in the Highlands at this time in the spring, so she stood with her face lifted to the sunlight for a moment. Then she made her way along the lanes, looking at goods for sale and speaking to several merchants about their wares. She guarded the coins she had as she sought out and purchased a few garments that Iain would need now that he was awake.
She walked for about an hour and when she arrived back at the gate that led to the inn she was proud of herself. Fia had managed to not think about his disturbing question and her untruthful answer for that whole time.
Chapter Sixteen
He was trying to figure out how to handle private matters when the door opened and the woman who’d been here with Fia entered. She took one look at him and stepped back to the open door.
‘Tomas! Munro!’ she called out loudly. The scurrying footsteps in answer to her call came quickly.
‘Aye, Mistress?’ they said in unison.
‘Help the lad,’ she said, with her knowing gaze on him. ‘See to things.’ The two lads, both of them tall and strapping, entered the room and came at him.
‘Here now,’ she called out, stopping them. ‘First, let’s get him oot of bed and to a chair.’ They approached each side of the bed and reached for him. ‘Gently, lads, gently.’
No matter gently or not, it hurt to sit up and to move at all. The dizziness grew stronger as they lifted him to sit first and then it became something worse and more noxious. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to piss. But, under the innkeeper’s vigilant gaze and experienced hands, everything was seen to in a brisk, impersonal manner and done speedily. She called out orders better than most clan commanders did and her lads were quick to respond and carry out her wishes.
A chair appeared and he was placed there, his bad leg supported during the move and now positioned with the stool and a pillow beneath it. At her call, a maidservant rushed in carrying fresh bedding and, between the maid and her mistress, the used sheets and blankets were removed and new ones placed. Niall’s head spun for a different reason as he watched the burst of tasks being done through the room.
‘I hadna wanted to bother yer rest these last few days, so the room hasna been swept or cleaned weel,’ the woman explained.
‘My thanks, Mistress...?’ He could not remember her name though he was certain Fia had told him.
‘Murray. Mistress Murray,’ she said.
‘My thanks for your consideration and all your help,’ he said with a nod. A slow one that did not bring on the queasiness. ‘You have been very helpful to Fia during this time.’
‘Yer sister is one of the sweetest lasses I hiv met,’ she said. ‘The burden she has borne these last weeks after yer injuries! Most women would never manage through such things!’
&nbs
p; ‘Aye, she is a remarkable young woman,’ he said. The innkeeper’s sharp gaze touched him as he spoke. The tone of his words did not reflect a brotherly attitude, nor did he feel one towards her. He felt... He cleared his throat and nodded. ‘I am just sorry that she has had to see to all of this on my account.’
‘Weel, ye are on the mend now and will be back on your feet soon enough to begin seeing to things.’ Mayhap Mistress Murray did not think that unattached young women should be in charge of things? ‘Peigi! Bring some hot water and soap.’
He was left alone a short time later with a bucket of steaming water, a cloth for washing, a cloth for drying and a small crock of soap. It took all his strength to do it, but soon, he was clean and dry for the first time in...months. Only his hair remained unwashed but that would have to wait until he could move more freely.
So much activity so quickly took its toll and he found himself dozing as he sat. Wrapped only in a blanket, he leaned his head back against the wall and rested. He laughed then at his deplorable condition—weak as a bairn and unable to stand or move much without help. And that’s where he was when she entered the chamber.
There was some colour in her cheeks now and she did not look so drawn and worried. Tired, though. She did look tired. Small dark smudges laid beneath each eye telling of her lack of rest. He studied this woman who had indeed saved his life. And her reasons for doing so were a complete mystery to him.
She stared at him even as he watched her and he knew there was so much he wanted to say to her. Yet, the words disappeared from his thoughts and he could only watch her as she came in and closed the door.
‘I brought you these,’ she said, holding out a pile of clothing. ‘I fear your others did not survive the journey.’ She laughed then at something and her face lit and her eyes shone brightly. ‘’Twas your coin that bought these.’
‘So, you found more than the book and the ring then when you searched my belongings?’ She nodded. ‘How long had you been planning to escape?’ he asked. Now that it was over, it felt a safer topic than some others he wanted to bring up to her.
KIDNAPPED BY THE HIGHLAND ROGUE Page 15