by Katy Baker
“It isnae every day that we welcome an outlander to the Highlands,” Mary said. “Let alone one who’s captured our Logan’s heart so.”
Thea flushed. “I...I don’t know what you mean.”
Mary grinned. “Nay? Mayhap I was imagining the way he was looking at ye just now.”
“Ma!” Ailsa said. “Were ye spying through the window?”
“Spying?” Mary said, looking affronted. “I canna help what I see. Tell me, my dear, are ye married? Do ye have children?”
“Mother!” Ailsa exclaimed.
“No to both,” Thea replied, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair.
Anna suddenly burst through the door and skidded to a halt, all but flying into Thea’s lap. “Will ye come to the beach with us, Lady Thea?” the girl cried. “Ma said we could go cockle picking. Will ye?”
“Cockle picking? That sounds great! Count me in!” Thea said with a grin.
Anna gave a little cry of delight, grabbed Thea’s hand, and tugged her to her feet. Thea allowed the girl to guide her outside to where the rest of the children were waiting. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was away from Mary and her probing questions.
The day passed quickly and Thea soon lost track of time. She and Ailsa spent the day on the beach with the children. They picked through rock pools and waded into the shallows collecting cockles and mussels which they put into a large woven basket Ailsa had brought for the task. Although there was a serious side to it—they were collecting food for the family after all—the children made it into a game. They splashed and chased each other through the shallows, hollering and screaming in delight. Thea found herself pulled into numerous games and by the time the basket was full and the afternoon was wearing to a close, she found herself wet through, exhausted and thoroughly content.
She and Ailsa were walking back to the cottage, the basket strapped to Thea’s back, when the sound of hoof beats caused them both to look up. Riders came galloping down the trail. Thea’s heart leapt at the sight of Logan, his hair streaming out behind him in the wind. But a moment later her heart sank again as she realized Logan and Rhodry were alone.
There was no sign of Irene MacAskill.
***
"I just dinna understand it," Rhodry said for about the fifth time. "How could she have disappeared? One old woman canna cover many miles in a day and we've been to every village in the vicinity. Nobody has seen her." He shook his blond head and then speared a big chunk of meat from his plate.
Logan glanced at Thea and he didn't need to speak for her to know what he was thinking. Fae, he'd called Irene MacAskill. A being with powers beyond human knowledge who had decided to meddle in both their lives. It would be easy for such a being to disappear.
They were gathered around the table in Ailsa and Rhodry's house, tucking into the hearty meal that Mary had cooked. As they ate Logan had quickly related the tale of their journey. They'd ridden north as planned, along the road where Logan had last seen Irene, asking after her with everyone they met. But nobody fitting her description had been seen in the last few days.
Thea found herself staring listlessly at her plate. Logan suddenly laid a hand on her arm and she glanced up.
“Dinna worry, lass," he said. "We havenae given up yet. We'll ride out again tomorrow. And the day after that until we find her. Could be she has an isolated croft somewhere that we havenae found yet. We'll find her, be assured of that."
Thea gave him a smile but her heart wasn't in it. She'd been so sure she'd be going home today. Where was Irene? Why would she bring her here and then just abandon her?
She put food into her mouth but barely tasted it. She thought back through everything that had happened since the day she'd met Irene MacAskill. Every word. Every facial gesture. Every bit of body language. What, exactly, had Irene said to her?
Ye will help me avert a disaster and break a curse that will throw the future out of balance. And in so doing, mayhap ye will find yer own place in the world. The one ye've been searching for all yer life.
Avert a disaster. Break a curse.
Had Irene brought her here for a reason? Was she supposed to do something? Then why hadn’t she at least given Thea a clue as to what that was?
Thea paused, spoon raised halfway to her mouth. Wait. Perhaps she had left clues. The book. The book of stories that Irene had left for her. At the time Thea had thought it a strange gift but what if it was more than just a gift? What if it held the clues to what she was supposed to do?
She was suddenly sure that Logan would not find Irene. Not until she wanted to be found, and, Thea suspected, that would not happen until Thea had done whatever she'd been sent here to do. But what was that? And how would she figure it out?
"Well, we mayn't have found Irene on our travels," Rhodry said. "But we found plenty of trouble. There are rumors flying so thick you could almost pluck them out of the air."
"Rumors?" Ailsa asked. "What rumors?"
"War," Rhodry replied. "War with the MacKinnons."
Ailsa tutted. "Ye shouldnae listen to such gossip, husband. Ye know as well as I that the MacKinnons have been allies of the MacAuleys for generations."
Rhodry shook his head. "Were allies. But not anymore. Seems the stories of the laird demanding an increased tithe from the MacKinnons is true. The word is he wants six of their ships."
"Their ships?" Ailsa asked. "But how will they feed themselves? The MacKinnon's are fisher folk above all else."
"Exactly," Rhodry replied. "Which is why Old Laird MacKinnon has had enough. The word is that if Laird MacAuley doesnae drop his demands, the MacKinnons will dissolve the alliance. Then the MacKinnons will ride against us."
Mary shook her head. "This wouldnae have happened in the old laird's time. Eoin isnae half the man his predecessor was!"
"Hush, Mother!" Ailsa hissed. "He's still our laird and ye shouldnae say such things!"
"I willnae be hushed," Mary replied, fixing her daughter with a hard stare. "Do ye deny it? Taxes up, the roads more dangerous than ever, no help for the outlying crofts and what does our laird do? Spends his time war-mongering and chasing anyone in a dress! I pity the woman he finally weds!"
Logan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, making it creak. "I'm sure Laird Eoin has reasons for what he does," he said carefully. "The clan needs an heir and for that he needs a wife."
"And these rumors of war?" Mary demanded, turning her stern gaze on Logan. "Do ye think he has good reason for that? Ye would think war would be the last thing on his mind after the trouble with the Irish raiders. We've had peace for the first time in years and he wants to shatter it!"
Logan looked away but Thea noticed that his grip on his beaker was white-knuckled. He stood abruptly, his chair making a loud scraping noise on the hard wooden boards.
“We must be going. I have much work awaiting me in the smithy.”
Without waiting for an answer, he strode out into the yard. Thea put down her spoon and pushed back her own chair.
“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” she muttered. “Thanks for dinner.”
She waved a hasty goodbye and then followed Logan into the yard. She could see tension in the set of his shoulders as he held the horse for her to mount. She set her foot in the stirrup and Logan boosted her into the saddle before climbing up behind her.
He booted Stepper in the ribs and sent her off at a canter, soon leaving the croft behind. Logan was a silent, brooding presence at her back and Thea knew better than to break that silence.
Besides, she had plenty of things of her own to think about.
***
Logan rode in silence. He tried to concentrate on the road but his thoughts kept skipping back to what they'd found earlier. No trace of Irene but plenty of traces of unrest and discontent. Could Eoin really be preparing for war? And against their old allies, the MacKinnons? What would drive him to do such a thing?
He was relieved when his croft came into view. He rode Stepper into the yard, pulled
her to a halt and jumped down. Thea was getting better at dismounting and she stumbled only slightly as she hit the ground.
"Ye go on in," he said. "I'll see to Stepper."
She nodded and walked off and Logan led Stepper into the stable. Once inside he worked methodically, removing her saddle and bridle and then rubbing her down and filling her trough with fresh oats.
That done, he hesitated then walked to the back of the stable and pulled away one of the bales of straw that was stacked there. Behind it lay a large wooden chest, blackened and battered with age.
Logan stared down at it for a long time. Then he knelt, unclasped the locks, and pulled open the lid. Inside, folded as neatly as the day he'd put them there, lay an ermine-trimmed cloak in the colors of Clan MacAuley, an embossed shield that stood at least half his height, and Logan's sword, it's grip stained and weathered from use.
Logan stared at the items. The shield and sword had seen good use and saved his life on more than one occasion. The cloak was more ceremonial than useful and he used to wear it when greeting visitors or holding court. Trappings of his old life. Why had he kept them?
Fool, he thought. Ye should have burned them. Why cling to a past that is dead and gone?
Annoyed with himself, he snapped the lid shut and threw the hay bale back in place. What did it matter to him if Laird Eoin chose to take his clan to war? What did it matter to him if his people simmered with unrest? He’d already given them everything. Was his life and those of his brothers not enough?
It isnae my business, he told himself as he stomped to the door of the stable and across the yard to the smithy. I'm just a blacksmith. A blacksmith with an order to fulfill.
Chapter 8
Thea sat cross-legged in the yard, her back against the cottage wall. Irene MacAskill's book lay open on her lap and Thea was doing her best to read, despite the sea breeze that kept whipping her hair in front of her face or trying to turn the pages of the book for her. She’d been at it for hours, searching for clues that Irene might have left, but was getting precisely nowhere.
If Irene had meant for her to do something, then why the hell couldn't she just have told her? Trying to find clues in a book of fairy stories was worse than trying to find a needle in a haystack!
She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head back against the wall. Four days had passed since Logan and Rhodry had first ridden out to try and find Irene. Since then Thea's days had fallen into a routine. Whilst Logan rode out to look for the old woman in the mornings, Thea helped Ailsa around their croft. The afternoons were spent back at Logan's croft poring over Irene's book whilst Logan worked in the smithy.
Determined to prove herself useful, Thea had found a hundred different things to do around the croft. In fact, she wondered how Logan managed it all by himself. There were repairs needed on the cottage which Thea had tackled without asking permission and which Logan had watched with a kind of bemused look on his face, particularly when Thea had clambered up onto the roof to patch a hole in the chimney. There was Stepper to take care of, along with the chickens Logan had allowed to run wild on the holding, and food to be harvested, stored or cooked. Nothing came easy in this time and everything she took for granted back home took a supreme effort. Hell, even getting water meant hauling up buckets from a well.
Thea had thrown herself into it with determination and Logan made no protest. In fact, he barely spoke to her at all and her evenings were spent alone in the cottage poring over Irene's book whilst Logan slept in the smithy. Thea could tell he was uncomfortable around her. He never stayed near her for too long and always had an excuse to be off doing something else if she sought him out.
Thea couldn't figure it out. Sometimes she thought she'd offended him. At others, she was sure he just didn't like her. But then she'd catch him watching her with a look in his eyes that sent her pulse racing.
She sighed and snapped the book closed. From the smithy she heard the 'clink-clink' as Logan worked at his forge and could feel the heat coming from it even at this distance. Movement suddenly caught her eye. Three riders were cantering down the hill towards the croft.
"Logan!” she yelled, scrambling to her feet and running to the smithy. “We've got company."
He set down his hammer and followed her outside, wiping his hands on a rag. He squinted against the sunlight, shading his eyes with his hand. "Laird MacAuley’s men. Come to collect his horseshoes."
He glanced at Thea and a flicker of unease washed across his face. "It would be best if they dinna see ye, lass. I’ll give them their order and send them on their way."
"I'll wait in the stable.”
She darted round to the stable. It was empty, Stepper having been turned out into the paddock for the day. Thea approached the plank wall and found a gap where she could peek out.
The three men rode into the yard and Logan stepped out to meet them.
"Greetings," he called. "A fine day to be out riding, nay?"
The men jumped down. They wore plaid in the MacAuley colors with thick leather gloves and boots that came up to their knees. Each was heavily armed with a sword strapped to his back and a dagger on his hip. They swaggered up to Logan with the confidence of men used to getting what they want.
"Well met, master blacksmith," one of them called, taking off his gloves and tucking them into his belt. "Although whether tis a fine day or not depends on what ye have for us. Ye are late with yer delivery."
Logan watched the man approach. "Aye, and I sent word to the laird explaining the reasons for that. The recent storm caused much damage to my croft and I had to make repairs."
The man waved away Logan's explanation. "Show us what ye've got."
A flicker of annoyance flashed across Logan's face at the man's abrupt tone but he turned without a word and led the three men into the smithy. Thea backed up a step. From here she couldn't see into the smithy, nor hear what was being said. She needed a better spyhole. She shuffled to the back of the stable where small rectangular hay bales had been stacked. She leaned against them, trying to see through a crack in the boards. She stubbed her toe against something hard and hopped, gritting her teeth to stop herself cursing aloud.
She looked down and spotted the corner of something poking out between the hay bales. Puzzled, she pulled away the bales to reveal a large battered chest.
Thea hesitated. Then curiosity got the better of caution and she yanked open the lid of the chest. Inside she found a shield, a huge sword almost as tall as she was and a fur-trimmed cloak elegantly embroidered with an insignia she didn't recognize. She knelt by the chest and gently ran her fingers along the fabric of the cloak. It was thick, finely made, and she knew enough of history to guess that this wasn't the sort of thing a simple blacksmith would wear. It spoke of high status and plenty of wealth. The shield and sword, although notched as though they'd seen much use, were also very fine work.
Why did Logan have them? And why was he hiding them in the stable?
She scrambled to her feet as she heard voices emerging from the smithy.
"Aye, the laird will be pleased."
She heard the sound of coins changing hands and leaned forward, trying to find a gap between the boards. The lid of the chest suddenly fell shut with a heavy thud and two of the stacked hay bales behind it went tumbling, thudding into the wall of the stable with enough force to make it shudder.
"What was that?"
"Naught," Logan replied. "Take what ye came for and be on yer way."
Thea heard footsteps approaching and the stable door was suddenly pulled open, revealing a man standing there. He startled as he saw Thea then barked a laugh.
"Ha! He has a lass in here!"
The man grabbed her elbow and yanked her roughly out into the yard. With a cry of protest, Thea snatched her arm from his grip and spun on him.
"Get your hands off me, asshole!"
The man's grin broadened. "And a feisty one at that!"
The other two men approached and stared at
Thea in surprise. She didn't like the hungry expressions on their faces as they looked her over. She suddenly felt like a rabbit cornered by wolves.
"So this is why yer order was late?" the leader said to Logan. "Nay wonder. If I was tumbling a beauty such as her I wouldnae pay much attention to my work either. Where did ye find her? I know all the brothels round here and I've never seen her before."
Brothel? How dare he? Thea felt heat rushing to her cheeks. She opened her mouth for an angry retort but Logan stepped close. His hands were curled loosely at his side and he made not a sound as he moved. His dark eyes raked the three men.
"Ye will keep a civil tongue in yer head whilst ye are on my land," he said in a deathly quiet voice. "If ye insult my guest again, ye will regret it. This is Lady Thea Thomas, a visitor from across the sea."
The leader spread his arms wide. He shared a look of amusement with his men although the smile on his face did not reach his eyes. "Oh, come now," he drawled. "There's nay need for argument. I canna blame ye for finding yerself a ride. It must get mighty lonely living out here alone. But there's nay need to be so greedy either. We are willing to share. I'll wager I can offer the lass more coin than she's seen in a year. The laird pays well these days." His eyes fell on Thea. "How about it, my lovely?" He stepped forward and grabbed Thea's arm.
There was a blur of movement, a heavy crack, and the man was suddenly on the ground at Thea's feet, blood leaking from his nose. Logan stood over him, his fist clenched.
"Get off my land," he growled. "Now."
The man glared up at him and slowly wiped the blood from his nose. "Ye will pay for yer impudence, blacksmith," he hissed. "Men!"
The other two guards drew their swords and advanced across the yard. Logan pushed Thea behind him.
"Stay back!"
Thea's heart leapt into her mouth. What the hell was happening? How had this turned so ugly so quickly? She could feel her heart thundering in her chest, battering against her ribs. The man Logan had downed climbed to his feet and joined his fellows. The looks on their faces were dark and ugly. Thea read violence in their eyes.